Girls To Die For
by Trooper 3.6
Summary: Sin City is filled with targets for the Girls of the SWA. Unfortunatly they themselves may soon become targets of the City.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: Hello everyone and welcome to my first Gunslinger Girl fanfic. This fanfic is actually a crossover with Sin City (which is one of if not THE greatest comic series ever written). If you haven't seen the movie I would highly recommend that you do so, or buy the comics. It had occurred to me that the girls never leave Italy when they go out on jobs, well in this story they will be going way out of the neighborhood and into a city not only filled with juicy targets for them but a city which just might make targets out of them. Enjoy and please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sin City or Gunslinger Girl, or any of the characters, although I do have some original characters to come, so please don't sue me.

THE KID

"That Damn Lawyer!" I growl out loud to myself as I drive down the street. It's after midnight and I'm in the middle of the richest neighborhood in Sin City. I've never cared for the lawyers, but I never thought I would be out to kill one of them. Some new Assistant DA guy, all I have is an address; an address and a dead friend. Yesterday I lost the best friend I have in this sick sewer of a city. They gave him the chair for about a dozen murders, only two of which he actually did. And come to think of it the only two he did murder, well for scum like them it was practically his civic duty. He had been a great friend and mentor ever since I came here six years ago. The minute I heard that he had signed a confession for the murders I knew something was up, he would never confess to a crime he did not commit. I looked into it. A hooker named Wendy went to visit him the day before they killed him, on her way out she asked some of the guards about this ADA. She must have asked very nicely. The next day I met with her at Kadie's Saloon, she told me she had the name and address. I told her I didn't care about the name, I just wanted the address, she gave it to me.

"Get em good, Kid," she had said. Kid, everyone calls me that; I figure it's better that way. In a cool way it kind of fits me when you come to think of it. I've only told two other people in this city what my real name is, and I'm going to avenge the death of one of them tonight.

"Don't worry Wendy," I say out loud as I park the silver sedan, two blocks from the house. "I'll get him real good," I say as I pull a cigar and lighter out of my black overcoat. It's a fine coat, I'm glad the old guy chose to leave it me in his will, there are still a few blood stains on it but their hardly noticeable. I lit the cigar, I never liked cigarettes, it was something we both use to tease each other about. The thing I like about cigars is, not matter how much you smoke them, you'll never get lung cancer, mouth cancer maybe, but as long as you don't inhale your lungs won't complain. Sure it's not quiet legal form me to smoke yet, but I figured what the heck; it's only a year, who's gonna care. I puff smoke from the cigar, it doesn't appease my anger, but it calms me down enough to stop me from running down the road like raging lunatic and breaking down the bastard's front door. I knew I would have to keep things quiet. I grab my wooden bat from the next seat, its time for some batting practice.

I walk the two blocks between the house and me, nice and casual. I keep my right hand (the one holding the bat) hidden in my coat. I look up at the house, it's your typical snob house, about five acres of land, house made of brick, three stories high and no doubt with the best burglar alarm system available. I'm not too worried about it though, people like this guy are stuck up, and when people get stuck up, they make mistakes. I walk around to the back door and just as I thought, the bastard forgot to check the back door, when people get stuck up they make mistakes. I make my way through the house walking carefully so as not to give myself away, his house is filled with paintings and sculptures, and suits of armor from European and Asian countries. I had wondered why such a large house. Wendy had told me he lived alone. "Damn, some people just have more money than they know what to do with," I say to myself, not too loud. I find the stairs and climb to the third floor. Another thing to know about people with an ego like this is, they always want to be as high above the ground as possible. I open the bedroom door and look in; there he is laying in a leopard skin blanket, just a thin and weak little man no older than thirty with dark curly hair, his left arm his in a cast. A large plasma TV sits only a few feet to the right of the door facing the bed. The room is illuminated from a large window on the wall to the left of the door. The room is almost entirely lit by a mixture of moonlight and lightning, rain begins to pour down on the window. And the man in the bed opens his eyes. He immediately looks at me with terror.

"Who…who are you?" he asks, not even trying to hid his fear.

"I'm no friend of yours," I tell him and draw the bat from my coat. He shrieks and starts trembling with fear as I begin walking toward him. "Dose the name Marv mean anything to you?" I ask him. All he dose is widen his eyes and tremble even harder. "Your damn right it means something to you, it means your arm is what it means," I say and point to his left arm. "Well lets just say it means something more to me," I tell him and remove the cigar from my mouth and put it down on a small wooden dresser to the left of his bed (making careful sure that the burning tip sticks out over the edge). I bring up the bat as if I were Babe Ruth at home plate. "But one thing I know about Marv is, in all his life he never left anything unfinished," I smile down at the shaking figure in front of me. "And seeing as how your still alive and you have three more perfectly well kept limbs on you, I figured since Marv is no longer able to finish his jobs, perhaps it's best I finish this one for him."

"Nnooooo!" the man squeals like a little girl, a blast of thunder drowns his wail. I bring the bat down hard on his right arm as he lays there. He continues to wail (more from pain than terror now). I move down the bed a few steps and bring the bat down on his right leg. This time the thunder doesn't come till after I hit, so I hear the crack of the bone. The little rat continues to squeal, but he can't seem to scream any louder, even when I break his left leg (swinging down with more strength than the past two). I'm about to smash his balls when I stop myself short. I always thought of that as playing way too dirty, reserved only for the worst of the worst. So I cut to the chase. The bastard's voice is to worn out to give any more than faint wails of pain that I myself can barley hear over the occasional clap of thunder.

I move back up to the head of the bed and look the battered lawyer in the eyes. "Maybe I should have introduced myself when I first came in," I growl to him, his eyes look back at mine with a terrible twist of horror and agony. "The people around here call me Kid. I guess that's as much my name as my real one. You wanna know who I really am?" I ask him. He doesn't give me an answer but I tell him anyway. I tell him my name, what happened to me six years ago when I was eleven, why I left my home country, how I got to Sin City, how I knew Marv, and how he's been a friend and a mentor to me. I smash his face with the bat, I hear the crack but I don't stop. I growl every curse I can think of as I continue to beat his head like eggs in a bowl. He doesn't even scream. After a few minutes all I'm doing is beating slug and bone fragments into the mattress, so I stop. I grab my cigar from the dresser and leave. I wipe the blood and guts from the bat in the soaked grass of the back yard and walk around the front to the sidewalk nice and slow, like I don't have a worry in the world. I don't continue smoking the cigar until I'm back in the car and driving back the way I came, heading for Nancy's place.

Nancy has been like a big sister to me since I met her outside her school when I was twelve and even more so when Marv took her under his wing after those Frat boys attacked her going home from her job at Kadie's. If there's one thing that disgusted Marv more than anything else, it was guys roughing up dames. He taught me to always treat them like I would a princess. And I always have. Marv was everything to me. I've been staying with Nancy for about a month and now, I was staying with Marv but now that he's gone all I have is a bouncer's pay and a landlord who doesn't want anything to do with me (after she heard what Marv had confessed to). Nancy is officially the only person in this city who knows my real name and where I'm from. The closest thing to family I have in this damn city. I pull the car into Nancy's drive way and toss the remains of the cigar on the cement, as much as both Marv and me meant to her she never let us smoke inside her house. I leave the bat in the car and walk up the concrete steps to the door. The thunder and lighting have ceased, but the rain still hasn't let up, and it doesn't feel like it's ever going to. I'm pulling out my spare key when Nancy opens the door. There is pause as we look into each other's eyes. Her eyes are red and irritated, she had been crying since yesterday, now she was looking at me with no emotion at all. She knew where I had gone and she knew what I had gone there to do. I do the only thing I can do. I give her smile and say, "I got em, Nancy, I got em."

Nancy manages a grim smile and warps her arms around me. I return her embrace. We are both now standing outside her open door in the pouring rain. She starts crying again and I hold her for what feels like hours. I knew it wouldn't make things any better. Marv was still dead and we both still missed him. I tell myself that that damn lawyer will never extort anyone or manipulate the justice system to ruin someone's life again, I tell myself the world is a better place with out that bastard; but true as it is that still doesn't make me feel any better. I can't bring myself to cry though. The rain begins to die down I feel her begin to calm down. The rain finally stops and the clouds give away to a beautiful full moon and stars glittering in the sky like diamonds on black velvet. Nancy pulls away from our embrace and looks me in the eyes. Her eyes are no longer dripping with tears. She smiles at me and says, "Thank you, Emilio."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Okay people, Time for chapter two (which may turn out to be little bit longer than the last one). I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, but I honestly don't know because…oh you know, no one has reviewed it! Come on people, reviews can really help an author you know. Any way here's the next chapter, enjoy and please review.

MARV

Saturday night again and here I am at Kadie's drooling over the new stripper and gulping down a brew again; me and the rest of the losers. I'm sucking down the last of my third glass and the new dame is at the height of her performance when I notice the fat pig sitting next to me, in a dark gray jacket. He's had twice as many beers as I've had and he doesn't even seem particularly interested in the dame on the stage. The other dozen or so around the table can't take their eyes off her; I've only turned my head to call for another brew. I don't like the looks of this guy, bald spot on the head, thick mustache, yellow eyes and with the shape of his nose you'd swear he really was a pig. I try not to mind him too much, and to keep my eyes on the dame, but that cold thing happens to my stomach and suddenly I know this guy is no good.

"Mac!" says the voice of a young man from behind me. The pig and I both turn at the same time to see a young man wearing a suit and tie coming our way. Couldn't be a Frat boy, to old for college. But he's got smug smile on his face aimed directly at the pig (or Mac), making it clear to me that his guy has something, or someone that Mac wants. Mac the pig turns back to his drink and I turn to the stripper, keeping my ears focused on the pig to my right. The young man leans next to Mac's right ear and softly whispers something; too bad for them, my hearing his perfect. "Mac, I've got one for you," the young man says.

"It'd better not be to old, like the last one," the pig growls.

"Not this time Mac," the young man smiles. "Eleven years, Italian, fresh from the boat," the young man says as if he were talking about a stake or a bottle of scotch.

The pig gives a hungry smile and licks his lips, like a dog at the sound of a can opener. "Take me to it," he says as if he were starving. The young man leads Mac the pig out the door and into the snow. I don't even have to think to figure out what that bastard his taking the pig to.

"Shellie," I call for my favorite waitress. "I need a bottle of whiskey to go, put the rest on my tap." Only seconds latter Shellie arrives with the bottle. I thank her and head out the door after the pig and the bastard. The snow is coming down hard but my eyes cut through it and see the two of them getting inside a Cadillac. A Volkswagen pulls up only a few feet away from me. I know what I have to do. I walk up to the man getting out and grab him by the throat. He's about my age, probably a loser come to drink his cares away, just like me. "Keys," I grunt. He hands them over, his hands shaking with fear. "Go have yourself a drink, and in about an hour you'll have it back," I tell him and let go of his throat. Buy the time I start the car, the Cadillac has already past me and is heading down the road. I start the car and gun it after them. Soon I'm on their tail, but I keep my distance so as not to make them suspicious, which is hardly a problem, because the Volkswagen is trash heap.

They lead me through the snow into an old warehouse district. I'm extra careful now; I drive the speed limit and make sure I'm fare enough behind them. They turn into a rundown abandoned warehouse, I couldn't even make out the name on the sign above the front entrance. Something that started with R, I didn't think much of it. I pass right by the entrance and turn the right at next corner. The place has a bad smell about it, I can tell right away that nothing good goes on in there.

I park the car around the corner from the place. I get out of the car and take a good long gulp of the booze. It tastes as sweet as honey. When the bottle is about half empty I smash the bottom of it on a brick wall nearby. The glass shatters, leaving sharp edges in the remaining half of the bottle, the perfect improvised weapon for close fighting. Snow continues to blanket the ground and I realize that the pig and the bastard are going to die tonight. Along the way in the care I had had plenty of time to figure this out. Inside that warehouse was an eleven-year-old kid, immigrant from Italy, who was about to enter a world of pain. Mac the pig couldn't get it up for the girl at Kadie's, apparently his interests resided elsewhere. But when I'm through with that son of a bitch, his interests won't be anywhere (so to speak).

I make my way to the entrance, thinking of creative ways to deal with these bastards. I turn into the wide opening in the chain link fence surrounding the building and through the huge open doorway into the shadows. It's dark inside, so damn dark. I see a light in the corner where there is a couch, occupied by Mac and the young man and a small lamp. Lucky for me it's so dark the dim light from the lamp can't touch me. I crouch down in the darkness and decide that when the young man brings the kid into the room, then I'll take them and get the kid to safety. I let my hand touch the ground as I get ready to spring, when I feel something beneath my left hand (the one not holding the broken bottle). It's a hammer, then a door to the left of the couch opens and two men in dark overcoats come in, a young boy standing between them. It figures I find the hammer just now, I know two thugs when I see them. I hadn't been expecting any party crashers but heck, I figure the more the merrier.

I take a good look at the boy; he was defiantly Italian (I can tell from his dark hair and skin texture). He's considerably shorter than the other men and he's wearing a red jacket with gold lacing around the wrists, a uniform of some sort I figure. Mac had gotten up and was looking the kid over with great anticipation. The kid stood there terrified, he knew what was coming and looked as if he were trying to hold back tears. Trying to be a man about it. Good kid. If I charge in there like a mad bull right now the kid might get hurt in the confusion. I have to play it cool. I stuff the hammer in the deep left pocket of my leather over coat and turned the broken bottle over in my right hand so the neck and lip of the bottle were now exposed (creating the illusion that the bottle was intact. I walk into the dime light nice and calm, with a big smile on my face.

The thugs and the young man notice me and reach into their jackets, no doubt for their guns. And suddenly all eyes are on me. "Relax fellus, just coming to see if I can cash in on some of the action myself," I say and give the kid a smile and wink, the kid flinches and shudders with terror. The thugs ease their hands away from their coat pockets and look to their boss in question.

"This is invite only bud, take a walk," the young man yells at me.

"Wait a minute," Mac says in surprise, just like I figured he would. "Weren't you at the bar earlier?" he asked, just like I planned.

"Oh yeah," I say with recognition. "I remember you," I say and take a few short steps for ward, maintaining a broad smile. "You took off so quickly I never did get a chance to buy you a drink," I say and extend my arm holding the bottle. I take a few more steps toward him with the bottle extended to him. Mac looks at it in question for a moment. "After all, the night is but young," I say with a devious grin. Mac promptly returns the grin and reaches out for the bottle, just like I planned. In a swift downward motion I turned the bottle upside down in my hand before Mac could get it and thrust it down into the pig's crotch and shove the kid back into the darkness. Mac gave out a pig's squeal. I backhand a punch into the young man's jaw, knocking him to the floor. I swiftly pull the hammer out of my pocket and smash the nearest thug in the face. The next thug manages to take me by surprise with a hard kick to the chin. I fall backwards onto the couch. There's a loud crack as I hit, the cushions protect me, but not the frame of the furniture. "Waste of a perfectly good couch," I say to myself. The thug, now standing over me reaches for his gun. The punk thinks I'm a pushover. I leap from the couch like a tiger and pin him into the ground, proving him wrong. I had dropped the hammer when I fell, no time to feel around for it. I beat the punk's face in with my bare hands.

I sand up and shake the blood off my hands. I turn to the way I came in and there's the kid, sitting there on the ground, breathing heavy and trembling with shock and horror. "Take it easy Kid," I say to him. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm here to help you," the kid's breathing calms down a bit. I turn to Mac the pig now laying down by the couch bleeding all over the floor. His knees are closed over his torso now and face is still twisted with pain. "Now that is one fine coat you're wearing," I say to him with a smile. I walk over to him and kneel down in front of him. "A fine coat like that and your just gonna bleed all over it, you might as well give it to some…unfortunate soul who don't have one," I tell him and motion toward the kid. He nods his head and quickly removes the coat and tosses it past me to the kid trembling on the ground. The kid paused for a moment then grabbed the coat and wraps himself in it. I look back to Mac and smile. "That was a very generous thing of you to do Mac," I say and pick up the hammer on the floor nearby. "So in honor of your act of kindness, I think I'll cut this short for you." Before he has the chance to scream I pound the hammer into Mac's forehead with all my strength.

I get up and turn around to see the kid still staring at me, not with fear but with uncertainty. I walk over to him and extend a hand down to him. "You alright Kid?" I ask him.

The kid trembles for a moment then answers, "Yes, I'm alright," he says with a slight accent. He reaches his hand up and accepts my hand. I help him to his feet and lead him out to the car. We're both silent in the car as we make our way through the sheet of snow falling from the sky. The kid is curled up in his coat on the seat across from me. I figure I'll drop him at my apartment while I go return this vehicle to it's rightful owner, who is most likely to drunk to drive it anyway. We're only a few blocks away from my place when I realize I should at least know his name. "Hey kid," I call to the timid figure riding shotgun. He slowly looks my way. "What's your name?" I ask. The kid just stares at me for a moment then looks out the windshield into the snow.

"My name is Emilio," he finally says.

"Emilio," I repeat and grin. "Sounds like a drink," I tease.

"You can just call me Kid if you like," Emilio says with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes: Okay that's feakin it people. I had better get some reviews for this one or else in the words of Sin City's Jackie Boy; "Well there's only so much a man can take." Seriously though I want reviews, I know people are reading this story but how can I tell if they appreciate it if they don't give me some feed back. I'm sure your all heart broken that the girls haven't shown up yet, well today is your lucky day. Enjoy and please review.

THE KID

Another Saturday night, a month since I killed that damn lawyer. Marv is still dead, I'm sitting at the bar on my break, Nancy is on stage starting her second show of the night. I'm downing my second brew, Kadie knows I'm underage, but she also knows I work hard and she knows I'm her best bouncer, on account of my late mentor (her number one customer). She doesn't even charge me for the drinks, she's been the closest thing to a mother I've ever had in this city, she use let me stay at her place when Marv had financial trouble years back. She can be a real sweet lady when she's not selling booze, if you bumped into her on the street corner, you'd hardly suspect her of running a Bar/Strip joint. I'm about to call for another brew when Kadie cuts me off. "The last thing I need is a drunk bouncer, Kid," she says. Before I can talk back she slides me a coke. Not nearly as much kick to it as the brew, but it goes down easy, and tastes sweet as honey. The front door opens and insteps a man with short dark hair and a trench coat; a lot like the one I'm wearing, only not as dark. Good old Dwight McCarthy, he was a good friend of Marv's. He's not what you call a bad man, but something's not right with him, you can tell just from looking in his eyes, there's some damaged goods up in the attic, if you know what I mean. But then most people thought Marv was crazy, Dwight, Nancy and myself were probably the only ones who knew better.

As Dwight walks past the stage he looks at Nancy with a grim smile. He knows her guardian angel is not there for her anymore. He knows I'm no push over, but we both know that Nancy will never be quiet as safe again. Dwight looks my way and takes a seat next to me at the bar. "How you been Kid?" he asks.

"Just fine," I say before talking a gulp of my drink. "Yourself?"

"About the same," says Dwight. "Had one late night last night," he says with a sigh.

"So I've heard," I tell him with a grin and grab a newspaper from the empty seat to my left. "You could have invited me you know," I tell him as I set the front page down in front of him. The headline reads ' MAGLIOZZI FAMILY SLAUGHTERED!'

Dwight scans the article for a moment then looks up to me with smug smile. "What makes you think I had anything to do with this?" he asks.

"Well it's quit simple really," I tell him before taking another sip of my coke. "You see, the article says that most of the mobsters slain at the penthouse were beheaded and several limbs severed; which tells me, Samurai sword, which tells me Miho, which tells me Old Town Girls, which tells me…Dwight McCarthy," I tell him with a smug smile of my own. Dwight pauses to consider my reasoning, maintaining his natural straight face, then smirks and nods his head.

"Well, I figured you might be interested Kid, but the whole thing just came up unexpected," Dwight says. "Besides which, you don't exactly make yourself easy to find, Kid. I stopped by here on the way to old town last night and you weren't working."

"Kadie gave me the day off," I explain. "She said I'd been working myself to hard," I say with a brief laugh. "You know when I was eleven in Italy I use to work 24/7, year round," I tell him. I kick myself for bringing that up, last thing I need right now is bad memories. "I got an apartment in mind, In Sacred Oaks. If I keep working every day for the next month I should have enough money for it, and I can stop burdening Nancy with me," I say and nod back to the stage where Nancy is at the almost to the climax of her performance.

"Don't sell yourself short, Kid," Dwight replies. "You know your all Nancy really has left. And besides, Kadie is right, you could use a break," he says. I sigh and look down at my drink. "Why don't you take a trip down to Old Town," he offers. "You might even get some action for free after what you pulled last week."

I turn and look him in the eyes. "Most of that was Miho," I tell him. "I only followed the Frats into the neighborhood because I recognized one of them, one of the bunch that roughed up Nancy that one time."

Dwight manages a smirk. "You saved Miho's life," he reminds me.

"She wasn't too happy about it," I remind him and turn back to drink.

"So it was a blow to her pride," says Dwight. "No one had ever been able to get the drop on her before, especially a Frat Boy. I'm sure she's over it now, she just doesn't like owing people favors, this could be her chance to repay it," Dwight says with encouragement.

I turn to him again. "I'm Catholic, remember," I tell him. "To me, sex is more than just a return favor," I say as I turn back to my drink. "Besides my heart still belongs to an angel of the past," I almost whisper.

Dwight gives me another smirk. "They don't call you Kid for nothing," he teases. "A regular boy scout you are," he says as he lays a hand on my shoulder. I'm about to tell him I'm no boy scout, then I decide not to get into another argument about that. Even as the toughest bouncer of a saloon I can't seem to avoid the simple fact that I'm a good man in a bad town. The vast majority of the police force is on the payroll of at least one outside party, some of (not all of) the priests in the local clergy have been known run there hands through the mud, even the local Boy Scout troops are a rat's nest of pedophiles. The only family I have in this town is a shameless striper (as big as her heart may be). My friend Wallace was right; it's a rotten town. But it's the only home I've got, might as well make the best of it.

He turns to Shellie as she walks past us from behind and asks for a beer. Shellie turns to Dwight. "Sure thing," she gives a wink, that's barely visible through her blinding smile. Shellie is Dwight's favorite, come to think about it she's the only waitress he ever asks for. He's taken her home several nights, and has always been as protective of her as Marv was to Nancy. Although I doubt he'll ever really show it, I think he may love her. Which is most likely my idealistic imagination run a stray. Dwight's defiantly not the type to settle for one girl. Shoot, God knows he could have any of the Old Town Girls he wanted, no charge. Dwight's beer arrives within thirty seconds. That alone should tell you how Shellie feels.

Dwight and I chat on and off for another hour or so and I gulp down a few more cokes. Then finally at 9:30 Dwight slaps a tip on the table, wishes me a good night and leaves. Its 10:00 Nancy is starting her third show of the night and I've just downed my eighth coke. Not too many people still around, accept for the normal band of losers drooling like fools of Nancy. I'm not too worried about her, they all know by now that I won't take things any lighter than Marv would. When all of a sudden I need to take a leak. I make my way to the restroom; do my business, no problem. I'm looking myself in the mirror of the filthy bathroom and I realize how little my face has changed over the past six years. My hair is about the same length and style it was back then, I'm still in good shape, much better than I was back at the hotel; thanks to physical training from Marv. I'm looking pretty scruffy though, been forgetting to shave, oh well. I push my way through the bathroom door and I notice someone's taken my seat. A man with blonde hair, and a tan overcoat is sitting in my place; he looks like he's in his late thirties or early forties. Sitting next to him his a man who looks a little bit younger than him, with dark hair and a black over coat. And next to the younger man is a brunet angel. She looks like she's about as old as I am. She's clutching a violin case in her hands, her eyes are the color of her hair, she's wearing a brown leather jacket over a not-too-short red dress. Something about the look on her face reminds me of a child, innocence…that's what it is, I've seen it before when I first met Her…I shake my head, straining myself not to think about Her. I look at the blonde man again and it hits me, something about his eyes, something about his voice, he's a bad man. I figure it's best not to make a spectacle of Kadie's place so I decide to sit tight and keep my hears pealed. I sit down about five seats away from them, just around the curve of the bar table. And ask Kadie for one more drink. Kadie shakes her head and complains about my caffeine intake but slides me another glass all the same. I'm about to take a gulp of my drink when all of a sudden a shock wave shoots through my ears as the blonde man and the dark haired man start speaking to each other…in Italian.

I sit and listen for about five minutes, slowly sipping my Coke, savoring the sweet delicious taste. Because as I listen, I know one thing, things are gonna get really ugly tonight. When I notice the conversation is coming to an end I gulp down the last of the drink and stand up. "Good night Kadie," I say to the elderly bar keep.

"Good night sweetie," Kadie replies with a wink.

I turn and walk straight past the trio of Italians. The young brunette gives me a quick and deadly glance as I pass by, I'm not looking but I know she did. I walk straight out the door into the falling snow. I make my way through the alleyway to the parking lot and get into the silver sedan. I get in and sit there waiting the snow fall isn't to heavy yet so I don't need to worry about the snow covering up the windshield, I don't even start the car, the key to winning is always playing it smarter than the other man. For instance, being members of an Italian government death squad, sitting in a public bar, discussing your mission plan for the night in your native tongue and just assuming that no one in the room understands Italian is hardly what you call playing it smart. I heard and understood every word they said…Last night they were scheduled to take down the leaders of the Magliozzi family, however they had a little surprise when a band of hookers showed up and did the job for them. The watched the whole slaughter from the snowy woods nearby, what they didn't notice until the last minute was Paparazzi had photographed them and drove off into the snowstorm before they could get him in their sights. They had spent the rest of the night and all day searching for the Voyeur until just before they stopped for a few rounds at the bar they learn who the mysterious photographer works for, Agamemnon. A professional in the trade of photography, mainly the incriminating kind. If those photos get out, it will mean the end of Italy's para-legal death squad. Agamemnon and the kid working for him are to die tonight. Not if I can help it though. Dwight use to do jobs for Agamemnon, I figure I'd not only be doing the guy a favor by saving his employer, even though I doubt Dwight thinks very highly of him. And besides which cold-blooded murderers don't rank very high in my book.

Less than five minute and all three of them come strolling casually down the alleyway and climb into a gray van, five parking spaces to the left of mine. Blondie gets behind the wheel, Dark hair rides shotgun and the little Brunette climbs into the back. I pull a cigar out of my jacket pocket and light up. The headlights on the van light up and the engine roars to life, the roar of the monsters contained inside. They pull out onto the road and head west with me following not to far behind. I continue to puff my cigar as I drive through the falling snow, following the gray van as it ventures farther and farther out into the wastelands. Every inch of desolate land outside the car is blanketed with snow. And I know that if I don't get to Agamemnon before they do, snow will be stained red with blood. I follow them for twenty minutes. They're going way to fast for me to pass them without seeming suspicious, then I recognize the road and I pull off the main road and onto a dirt road (almost invisible under the snow. The van continues on the main road, they're new around here, don't know the short cuts. I've got six years of know how on these guys. I don't have a gun on me, but I have good old dependable. I smile at my baseball bat riding shotgun. If worst comes to worst, I can at least get a piece off of one of them. Five minutes at top speed over rolling snow topped hills (gonna be hell to pay on the car) and I reach Agamemnon's, the van is no where to be seen…perfect, I figure I have about five more minutes at least until they get here. By the time that van pulls up, Agamemnon needs to be long gone. It's not much a modest house in the middle of nowhere, the perfect place for a photo developer/paralegal photo trafficking. I get out of the car, baseball bat in hand, I spit what's left of the cigar into the snow. I run up the concrete steps to the door and nock three times. "IT'S OPEN!" growls a fat and raspy voice from the inside. I push the door open and leap backwards in alarm at what I. I can see him clearly from the moonlight shining through a nearby window. A short fat man, balding at the top (with about as well kept facial hair as mine, a white sleeveless shirt with the words KISS ME I'M GREEK printed on it and a double barrel shotgun in his hands, pointed at my face. Maybe I should have left the bat in the car.

I lay the bat down on the floor and raise my hands. "Relax," I say to him. "I'm a friend of Dwight's, I'm here to help," I tell him.

He grabs a flashlight but keeps the gun pointed in my direction. He turns it on and scans me for a second. I blink as he flashes it over my face. He switches the flashlight off and throws a light switch on the wall next to him on the front hallway glows to life and both of us are completely visible. "Kid?" he asks. I'm taken back by this, I'm sure I'd never met him before.

"Yeah," I say and nod my head. Agamemnon's fat face twists into a friendly but not very pretty smile as he lowers his shotgun.

"Kid!" he exclaims as if greeting a long lost family member. "Great to finally meet you in person," he says as he walks up to me and grips my hand in a firm handshake. I look at him confused.

"Didn't realize I was so popular," I tell him.

The fat man gives a hearty laugh and pats me on the shoulder. "Dwight told me all about you, especially about that incident with the old town girls. I tell ya those are the kind of people who deserve death, no trial, no jury, and death on the spot. Anyone who would attempt to tarnish a Sin City Dame should die like a dog. If there are anymore perfect women in all the ends of the earth than right here in this town that I call home I have seen them not. I tell ya I could write a Book…" he rambles on.

I begin to doubt weather Dwight would miss this guy if I left him here. I quickly shake that thought off. I bend down and pick up my bat. "I hate to interrupt," (well actually I don't) "But I take it you were expecting company," I say and motion towards the shotgun now lying on the floor. He opens his mouth to speak. "I know," I tell him. He looks at me with a mixture of surprise and guilt. "One of your men snapped some shots of a death squad last night. And you were right to be prepared because they did find you out and they are coming for you," I say. His face twists with fear. "I overheard them talking and came here as quick as I could, grab the photos and come with me, I'm gonna get you out of here," I tell him. He nods and rushes down the hall and into a room. Only moments latter he emerges with a plastic bag in his hands.

"Got em," he says and shakes the bag in his right hand.

"Good, lets go," I say, we both sprint out the door and run for the sedan. The van is still nowhere in sight, 'We're gonna make it,' I tell myself with a smirk. Only instants latter a bullet whistles past my head, spoiling my dream of making it out of this without any blood shed. I show Agamemnon to the ground and we both take cover behind the shotgun side of the sedan, the shooter doesn't give up. Three more bullets come our way, smashing through the car windows and hammering against the driver side of the car. That son of bitch is gonna pay. Agamemnon stuffs his face into the ground and trembles, just like I figured. I think I may know where the shooter is. After the third shot there's a pause in the shooting, flatten myself against the side of the car and slowly open the shotgun door. I see my baseball on the floor of the car. I'd bought it a week or two back, just to try something new. I grab it and look up through the driver side window at an oak tree about thirty yards away from the car for a brief moment. I can almost see the outline of a human body up on a branch. A bullet zips past my head and I leap back shutting the car door. I look at the baseball in my left hand and the bat in my right and I have an idea. I grab the fat man by the back of the neck and pull his face out of the snow. "I have a plan," I turn his head toward me, his face has panic written in a every language known to man all over it. "I know your scared, but this is our only way out of this, you understand?" I ask him. He gives an uneasy nod. I tell him what to do then we both crawl to opposite ends of the car. I have my bat and ball ready. Agamemnon nods to me from his end of the car. He's still terrified. Good. He'll be more convincing that way.

THE SHOOTER

The shooter looks through the scope of the rifle. The shooter looks over the car and wanders if it would be smart to change position. But the shooter knows that back up is on the way and that moving now might give them a chance to escape. Then suddenly a shout breaks the shooter's train of thought. It is the voice of a man, a middle aged man. The shooter turns attention toward the source of the shout and sees a pair of hands stretched up above the back hood of the car. No chance at a kill shot. "Please don't shoot, I'm freakin beggin ya. Please, I'll give you the photos just don't kill me please." The sniper continues to scan the target through the scope and listens to the begging and pleading, waiting for him to stick his head up over the hood. Then suddenly it hits …the first of two things that would hit the shooter within the next ten seconds. The shooter had a visual of the Mark, but there was another man with him. Where could he be? The shooter turns the rifle to scan the other end of the car and to fast even for the shooter to react; something round and hard smashes against the scope. The scope on the rifle shatters into a several fragments. And before the shooter can regain composure the man in the dark leather jacket runs back through the front door of the house.

THE KID

"Mark McGuire has nothing on me," I say to myself with a smile as grab, the shotgun laying on the ground where Agamemnon was previously standing. That back there was a grand slam for the record books. I check the barrels, both loaded, good. I make my way to the door and walk out into the night partially illuminated by the snow on the ground and inch along the wall to edge overlooking the side of the house in view of the shooter in the tree. It should be any second now.

"Okay here they are!" Agamemnon's voice echoes across the area. I look around the corner to see the plastic bag thrown over the top of the sedan and into the snow not very far from the tree. Just like I told him. "There yours you can have em. Just please leave!" the fat man begs. Now is my chance I swing around the corner of the house and bring up the shotgun. I take aim for the tree harboring the shooter who shot up Marv's sedan.

"You wrecked my Car," I whisper as my finger tightens around the trigger. I feel a hard blow to the back of my head and I fall to my knees. The gun slips from my hands as things begin to blur. The last thing I see is the tree. And it all seemed to be going so well.

I wake up on my knees to the sound of a loud bang. I'm in front of the house; the front door is about fifteen yards to my left, the van is about the same length to my right. The sedan is a few yards behind me. Agamemnon's laying on his back in front of me there's a hole in his forehead and his brains are spilling out from the back of his skull and into the snow. Sorry old man. I look up at the killer, the Brunet beauty from Kadie's place. She's holding a P90 submachine gun in her hands, still smoking. I heard about the P90 on the History Channel once, It's small, lightweight (no doubt the contents of the violin case she held back at the bar). It may look like a child's toy but it can punch through 48 Kevlar jackets from two hundred yards away. Sure would like to get me one of those. I look her square in her chocolate eyes and give a charming smile. "Hello Beautiful," I say to her. She continues giving me the same cold stare she gave me back at the bar. "You the one who knocked me out?" I ask, maintaining my smile.

"That would be me, stud," says a sexy voice from behind me. I look over my shoulders and see a Blue eyed beauty, holding me up by the collar of my coat. I figure she's a few years older than me. She has long blonde hair in two ponytails and eyes the color of the ocean. She's wearing a gray suit and skirt under her tenchcoat.

I give her an even wider smile. "I got tell ya honey, I'll take a beating from you any day," I tell her.

"Oh don't worry sweetie," she tells me. "You'll get another one really soon if you keep that kind of talk up," she smiles.

"Tempting but no thank you," I tell her as I turn back to the Brunette. "So where's the shooter from the tree?" I ask and nod toward the oak tree which once harbored a deadly killer.

"She's inside," the blonde answers. "No doubt getting yelled at by Jean for needing me to come to her rescue."

"She?" I ask in confusion. "I didn't know it was a she," I explain. "What are you ladies? Sisters?" I ask.

"I guess you could say that," the blonde answers. "We have been together for the past seven years," she explains.

I gotta keep them talking, I have to think of some way to distract them, maybe get one of their guns away from them. But what if I do? Do I kill them? Do I try to reason with them? Can I reason with them? I'd like to tell myself I can. I'd love to think that they're still human. That if I say the right stuff and maybe get them to like me, I can convince them to let me go. Maybe I can still make it out of this alive. I'm about to make some more small talk when the front door opens and the two men from the bar step out. "You don't need to go so hard on her Jean," the dark haired one says to the blonde, namely Jean. "So she made a mistake. It happens to everyone."

"I've been instructing her for the past seven years Jose," Jean replies. "I think I know what I'm doing. She's a weapon, like any other. And sometimes weapons need maintenance. Besides which we need to report to the Director." Another dark haired man steps out of the van, his hair is a little longer than the other two but looks about the same age. "Hillshire," Jean greets the newcomer. "Any word from the Director?" he asks.

"Yes," he replies as he walks closer to them. "He says we are to eliminate the prisoner and return to Sacred Oaks immediately." All my hopes shatter into the snow.

"Look he's a civilian can't we just…" Jose begins, but his cut off by his blonde counterpart.

"He's a witness Jose," says Jean. "You know the rules," he says. Jose lowers his head. "Besides, now Rico has a chance to redeem herself," he says. "Rico come out here," he shouts.

Rico…a blot of lightning strikes my brain. My blood doesn't know whether to freeze or boil. My heart skips ten beats as I hear footsteps come out the front door and begin to crunch against the snow. The Blonde girl lets go of my collar and walks over to the brunette. She knows her job is done and the executor has arrived to do hers. My face twists with shock and terror as I look up at the girl standing only ten yard away from me. An angel…Hair the color of a field of wheat, beautiful sparkling emeralds for eyes, her face is mature but not the least bit less gorgeous than it was the day he met her. If I had to imagine the perfect woman, she wouldn't be half as stunning as her. She's wearing only cargo pants, and an overcoat. But even that doesn't lessen her beauty…Rico. As I continue to stare like a fool at her I notice a bruise on her left eye, either my homerun went foul, or I've uncovered Jean's maintenance method. Not that my frantic mind allows me to think much about it. She turns to Jean; I guess she hasn't recognized me. She asks him something but I'm to shocked to understand it. They exchange words for a moment, and I already know what's about to happen…again. I lower my head. Whoever said "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" ought to be shot. But go figure, I'm about to get it…for the second time. The Rico and Jean aren't even done talking when I interrupt. "May I stand up?" I ask loud and clear, my head still bowed with defeat and shame…and sorrow. "I would like to go like a man," I tell them.

There's a pause for a moment. "If you like," Jean replies.

I slowly rise from my knees to my feet. Snow begins to pour down heavy. I keep my head lowered. She didn't recognize me when I looked her in the eyes a moment ago. Why should she recognize me now, unless…she saw the right thing! That silence, I heard it years ago, the sound of an Angel staring at me with melancholy eyes, the sound of her raising her right hand (bearing a silenced hand gun). A silence that would soon be interrupted by the soft blast of a silenced gunshot. As silent as the breaking of a heart. "Wait!" I say. My word seems to have sent a shockwave through all present. "Just one last request," I say. I keep my head lowered as I slide my coat off and into the snow. The snow continues to fall heavier than ever, all I'm wearing is my trousers and white collared shirt. I raise my arms to the buttoned centerline of the shirt, I grip the folds and pry them open with all my might. My shirt slides off my arms and down on top of my coat behind me. I stand in the falling snow wearing only my trousers. The freezing wind tears at my skin; but I don't care. I expose her to my masculine body (a hard earned six-pack and tightened muscular arms and shoulders). But it's not to show off my figure, it's to show her she's been here before. Finally I raise my head and look her in the eyes. My face is one of defeat, passive and full of regret. The scar on my upper chest is plain in sight. It looks like someone had hammered a railroad spike into me years ago, just south of the neck. My face has matured and grown some hair but I know I haven't changed that much. I look at her with the exact same face I did six years ago on the day it happened. Her shining green eyes look back into mine with confusion and uncertainty as the snow blankets her golden hair…she's so beautiful…I raise my right hand and place my index finger over the left side of my chest, three inches away from the edge of the scar. Then I say softly but not too soft, "Make sure you get your aim right this time…Rico."

Her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, her face twists with realization, and only moments latter a tear runs down her right eye…she knows it's me. What happens now?

"RICO! What's the matter with you?" Jean demands from her side. "Shoot him!" Rico doesn't even look his way; she just keeps on staring at me with those sad eyes. Tears are now dripping out of both her glimmering emeralds. I'd love nothing more than to walk up to her and wipe them away. Jean shouts her name again.

She turns to him, at the sight of her tears Jean leaps back as if struck. "I…I…I," Rico begins but can't seem to finish. So I help her out.

"I think the words your searching for Rico," I begin, and all eyes are on me. "Are, I'm sorry," I finish. The snow falls even heavier and harder than ever. It becomes hard to see Rico. Jean and all the others are practically invisible. But I can still see her eyes. A faint flash of light reaches through the snow from behind me and know exactly what's about to happen I leap forward into Rico. I've taken her totally by surprise, she tumbles backwards. A series of loud bangs sound off as we hit the snow. I lay on top of her for only a few seconds but it seems like hours. Our eyes lock, her's stare up into mine with shock and her tears continue to flow. I wipe her tears away as best I can as the bullets fly safely over our heads, it calms her down somewhat. I turn her head to my left and give her a quick but strong blow to the back of her head, just like Marv taught me. The best way to knock a dame out cold, without hurting her badly. I scoop her up into my harms and run around the side of the sedan, pausing only to grab my coat with my fingers. After I make it past the front of the sedan I turn left and run for the road, where I see the source of the light and the gunshots. Good old Dwight. He must have heard from a friend about Agamemnon's predicament, he's got enough sources. No matter, he's a godsend. He sees me coming and continues to fire his .45 into the snow, several bullets zip over us a few lucky ones nick the Cadillac's paint job, but the snowfall is way to thick to get any better than that. I toss, Rico and the coat in the back seat and grab the silenced .45 out of Rico's unconscious hands. I twist off the silencer and aim blindly into the snow, I'd become pretty good at estimating people's positions in poor visibility. I take aim for the area I think Rico was standing and then I measure how far apart they were then I fire. I cry of pain is heard amiss the echo of the shot and the zips of the silencers. "Bullseye!" I say to myself and hop into the shotgun seat. "Get us out of here!" I say to my friend.

"Right," he says and shifts the Cadillac to reverse. He floors the pedal; we travel in reverse for about ten seconds. He then turns the wheel hard to the right, spinning us 180 degrees, the shifts to drive and guns the engine. The snow storm is at it's height now. They won't be able to follow us, not immediately at least, not while nursing wounded. I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down. I turn to Dwight.

"Take us to Old town," I tell him. "It's only place to hid from them. Sorry Dwight, Agamemnon didn't make it."

"It's alright Kid," he says without blinking an eye, or looking away from the road. "I wouldn't even have come if I hadn't found out you were here. Shellie told me you were listening in on a conversation with some suspicious people and you followed them away in your car," he explains, perfectly calm as if none of this was unexpected. Most people would call that suspicious and/or psychotic, but I've known him for almost as long as I've known Marv. He's always been like this especially since the incident that lead to his surgery. Always calm, always natural, it's the way her survives, if it wasn't for his demeanor he'd died years ago. "So who's the girl?" he asks. And nods back to the sleeping angel wrapped in my coat in his back seat.

Damn I could use a cigar. "It's a long story Dwight," I tell him with a sigh.

"It's okay Kid," he begins. "It's a long drive to Old Town from here," he finishes as we drive deeper into the fury of the on going blizzard.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: Hi everyone. Here comes the next chapter, sorry to take so long but I've had other things to do; like Navy stuff you know. Anyway I hope you all enjoyed the last two chapters and I hope you enjoy this next one. Oh and just so you all know I made a mistake in the last chapter. Rico has blue eyes, I lost track of which ones had which color of eyes. Anyway here we go, and I'll do my best to fix the mistakes, please review.

HENRIETTA

The car vanishes into the thick sheet of snow pouring to the ground like a waterfall. I lower my weapon. The P-90 is the most powerful submachine gun in the world, but with this kind of visibility the ability to penetrate forty eight layers of Kevlar from two hundred yards away dose not do much good. If only the snow wasn't so heavy. It snows in Italy but never this much. There's something about this place. I turn around quickly and squint through the continuing downpour of snow, I lift my hand to about a foot in front of my face; I can't see it, only whiteness. A rush of fear sweeps over me, the enemy fired several shots off. My fears are validated by the sound of an adult male screaming in pain…JOSE!

I sprint desperately in the direction of screaming. A few seconds latter the white sheet in front of me gives away to four figures. It's not the shape of their bodies that makes them stand out in the snow or their dark over coats. It's the color of the snow they are standing on…it's not white…it's red! A color I have seen an endless amount of. And it's growing, like a ripple in a pond; the red is spreading across the snow, emerging from a man lying on the ground. I look to the other three. Jose is kneeling on the ground beside the wounded man. Thank goodness he's alright, my heart rests at ease. Hillshire and Triella both standing to the wounded man's left. The wind dies down and the snow curtain gives away and I see the face of the wounded man clearly, or rather the left half of his face; the same blonde hair as always, the same face (very similar to Jose's). But the right side of his face is engulfed entirely in red, blood flowing from a bullet wound just below his eye, the right side of his face now a broken, splintered, mangled stump of torn flesh, blood and shattered bone. The left side of his face is also twisted and misshapen. Not from a bullet or from the pain he must be feeling, but from something different. I look into his eye, the only one I can still see, and I see blind psychotic rage. Rage I have seen dozens if not hundreds of men in combat. Jean's injury is severe but more deadly than the bullet burning in his face is gapping hole torn in his pride, reflecting through his eyes.

As Hillshire flips open his cell phone and calls for an ambulance I realize why Jean is so furious. Triella is at Hillshire's side, and I have made my way to Jose's side, but the only one beside Jean is Jose. I scan the area, now fully visible; all snow blanketed wastelands crystal sparkling whiteness as fare as the eye can see. But she is no where to be seen, not her or the boy…I turn back to Jean his eye's are fixed to the sky. He gags, blood spurts from his mouth. "RICO!!!!" he wails with more furry than the past storm.

[DWIGHT

The Kid tells me what happened after I left Kadie's as I steer the caddie down the snow blanketed road. All this because the Kid could understand Italian, maybe I should learn a second language; especially if it means picking up a blue eyed beauty of a blonde like the one laying unconscious in the back seat of the car. It's too bad about Agamemond though, sure he wasn't my favorite boss, but I was his favorite employee; he never let me down when I needed him, but I'm not sure if one less paparazzi photo journalist in the world is a good or bad thing. The Kid continues on about finding Agamenmond, the problem with the sniper; giving me a nod towards the angelic figure in the back seat. I especially enjoy how he took her down with a home run. He then tells me how he was taken from behind and if I hadn't come when I did he would have been executed by Ms. Gorgeous. "So why save your executioner?" I ask the Kid.

That smug smile inherited from Marv slips away into the freezing wind tearing at both our faces. His face straitens and his eyes wander far away, he may be staring off into the road ahead of us, but is mind is going backwards; back through time back to some time some where that I'm not entirely sure even Marv knew about. I know because I've seen that face before, several times actually, I had even seen it earlier tonight. He finally turns to me. "You remember that Angel of the Past I mentioned?" he asks me. I take a quick glance back at the sleeping beauty on the back seat and then look back into the Kid's eyes. I don't say anything but he nods his head, his face still as straight as the road in front of us.

I turn my head back to the road. "I've gotta hand it to ya Kid," I tell him. "That there is a girl to die for."

The Kid turns to his angel of death in the back seat and stares for a moment with that same look on his face. He then pulls a cigar out of his coat pocket, lights it and takes a good long puff. Then out of the corner of my eye I see that smug smile has found its way back home. "She sure is," says the Kid. We don't talk much more for the rest of the trip eventually the level ground breaks into steep ridges and cliffs, the road becomes of a rollercoaster of twists and turns, ups and downs; I keep my eyes on the road and keep below the speed limit, not just to avoid attention but with snow and ice on the ground it's no wander these roads are deserted. You'd have to be insane to take this road in this weather. The Kid and I haven't even broken a sweat. Finally we make it to old town not to much action on the street, not with this kind of cold. All the heat has moved indoors. Most lights are still on despite the hour. But as always when the Kid and I look up to the roof tops we see her, a small raven haired beauty wrapped in a dark fur coat, her sword visible from around the waistband. Deadly little Miho; Gail and her (especially her) have been waiting for a chance to pay him back for some time now. He refuses to accept their more conventional means of gratitude. Which has been something of an annoyance to the girls, I guess they enjoy having something men will take in a heartbeat without hesitation. But The Kid and his moral code complicate things for them. They all love him and hate him at the same time: They despise the fact that a man can withstand and resist their power, but they can't help but smile at the fact that there are men out there in this rotten shit hole of a city who value some things more than sex. Miho notices us. A few seconds latter she's on the sidewalk waiting to greet us and Gail steps out from a nearby apartment building, herself bundled up in a leather trench coat.

I stop the car and we both get out. Gail shoots me her usual smile, Miho beside her keeps her face as cold as the snow now softly coating the neighborhood. "Dwight, come t celebrate for the other night?" she lights one of her black cigarettes. She then notices The Kid and gives an equal smile. "And to what do I owe the please Kid?" she asks. "Charging in sword drawn as usual?" she gives a playful wink, I receive a slight tinge of jealousy.

The Kid's cigar is burned down almost to the nub, so he tosses it to the ground and stomps it into the snow then looks at the feminine duo in front of us. "Gail, Miho, I'm calling in that favor from both of you now," he says sternly.

Gail's smile widens; she senses her lucky break and for a second I almost think Miho's face brightens itself. "Just choose a room, Miho will go free of charge, but it's only half off for me," she says. "Business is business you know."

"It's not like that," he responds immediately. Gail doesn't even seem disappointed. Miho's face is back to its liquid nitrogen tone so quickly I'd swear I had imagined the brief warmth I noticed only seconds ago.

"What'll it be then?" she asks sluggishly exhaling smoke from her cigarette.

"I need a place for me and a…friend to stay," The Kid begins. "Somewhere private, where no one will disturb us preferably somewhere above the ground and constant surveillance from Miho and whoever else you can spare," he continues. "I want to be kept informed about anyone asking around about a blue eyed blonde woman, especially if they're foreigners, Italians to be specific. And also keep an eye out for any unfamiliar young women anywhere between 17 and 25 years old, possibly carrying violin cases. I also need as many chains and handcuffs as you can spare. And if it's a long story so I'd appreciate it if no questions were asked."

Gail blew a smoke ring into the air. "Well, that is defiantly an original, Kid," Gail says with a surprised smile. "It shouldn't be too much trouble though," she continues. "I have enough people watching the streets right now to afford Miho on special surveillance, at least for a while. I'll also make sure to keep a few other eyes on you and your room for good measure and you and I can look through my cuff and chain collection together. As for new faces, we'll keep you informed." She drops her own burnt down cigarette into the snow, it hisses on impact. "And if you'll pardon one question, who is this friend of yours?"

The Kid casually walks the back door of the caddie, opens it and emerges a few seconds latter with the golden haired charmer lying in a bridal pose in his arms. Gail's eyes widen and Miho blinks once, the only show of surprise I've ever seen from her, but plenty enough to impress me. "She'll be fine," The Kid assures before a word is said by anyone. "Just a blow to the head," he says and takes a few steps closer to the awe struck pair. "Show me to the room please Miho. And Gail bring me every damn chain and cuff you can afford to loose ASAP." He requests with a hint of urgency. "And Dwight," he turns back to me. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done so far but if you see or hear anything else I'd appreciate it."

"Sure thing Kid," I reply. He then turns to Miho who instantly leads him across the street to another apartment building and through the main door. Gail and I stare after them for a moment both equally enticed by what's happening and what we both think is soon to come.

"Who the hell is that Babe?" Gail asks me, her eyes still on the building the three of them entered only moments ago.

"Believe it or not Gail," I tell her softly. "She's the reason why none of you girls can get to The Kid," I explain. All the years I've known that boy he has never once ceased to amaze me.

Gail finally breaks from her trance to pull another cigarette and light up. She looks back to the apartment building, lit cigarette in hand. "Must be a girl to die for," she says and casually inhales her smoke.

"Must be," I agree. I turn back to the caddie and re-enter the vehicle. Gail's eyes follow me. I briefly roll down the window. "Tell The Kid I have one lead and I'm following it. I'll be back some time tomorrow night," I call out to her. Even after I've turned the caddie around I can still see her staring after me with those sad eyes. I know honey; I wish I could stay too, but I've never let a friend down when I could help it before and I'm not about to start. The whole thing stinks. Assassins, foreign government agencies, mobsters being targeted, paparazzi being targeted; it stinks like a pile of corpses. And a pile of corpses means a clean-up job and only two names come to mind with that: Shlub and Klump, AKA "Fat Man and Little Boy," I say aloud as I smoothly glide the caddie through the oncoming snow.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's notes: Okay people, here we are with the next chapter of Girls to Die For. I take it you all enjoyed the last one and here comes the next pile of corpses. One of you in particular have been review often lately. Just so you know by the way I am familiar with the manga. I was unaware of the fate of Jean's fiance though. I do believe I understand Jean a little better now. Revenge you say he wants. He dosen't care what he has to do, who he needs to kill, who's lives he has to ruin, nor however many innocent by standers like Emilio he needs to run over. And Rico is his instrument of death and pain; he cares nothing for her, only that she continues to do exactly what he says as her live drifts away into a bloody mess of violence and he knows that she will die. If not from the bullets flying at her on a daily basis then by the drugs they pump into her body to keep her fit and obedient. But his vengence will do him no good. The pain will never go away. They killed the woman he loved and his kid sister; in the words of Steve Buscemi from the movie DESPARADO "Don't you see? There's no revenge for that," and there isn't, he'll just keep killing, through Rico, finding more and more people to kill. Compelled by vengence he is but soon...he'll be consumed by it. Am I not correct? Anyway now that that's over with lets get back to the action. Oh yeah and one more thing, next chapter this thing is going M rated, so look for more of this in the M rated section. Enjoy and please review.

THE KID

I lift the bottle to my lips and gulp down another swig. Nice of Miho to give me a case of brews. She even helped me with the chains and the cuffs; and judging from the web this spider helped me spin, I take it I'm not exactly the first guy to require this kind of service. I get up from the couch and casually step over to the window, the curtins shielding me from the light of mid-day. I push away a small fragement of the curtins and look out into the daylight. I'm almost blinds at first, but eventually my eyes adjust and I see grey clouded skies above Old Town, snow flakes glidding to the ground, not nearly the furry of last nights storm but thick and heavy. As if trying to shield me from the dangers to come, or perhaps to blind me from what would inevitably be coming into Old Town. The snow blankets the streets and buildings below. The snow plowing system in Sin City is next to worthless in general, in Old Town its bearly in existance. And the snow continues to fall, each flake overlaping another. The TV weather report half an hour ago reports anywhere from six to seven feet of snow over the next day. Old Town will be all but cut off, either to keep someone out or to keep someone in. I rest assured knowing only that Miho is perched on the roof above my head, like a hawk scouting for rodents.

I close the curtin and the room goes dark again, save only for the dim lamp sitting on the dash board next to the bed; Where lies a gorgeous blonde, her eyes shut and her breathing heardly noticable. The temperature outside must be below zero but just watching her warms my entire body, more than the brew even. I walk away from the window and stop only a few feet away from the side of the bed, a satisfied smile finds it's way to my face; a rare occation, these days anyway. I just stare at her mesmerized by her face just like I was all those years ago. Most of her is covered by blankets and quilts, only her pretty little head is uncovered; propped on a large pillow. Her face is so peaceful, so innocent, so beautiful. She looks like an angel ought to look...the perfect woman. I've been waiting my whole life for this moment. I had begged God several night to let me see her again. After all these years I had almost given up hope. And now here she is lying in bed only seconds away from me. I just wish I could have done better for her. A run down room on the top floor of a 12 story building in the middle of the prostitution captial of the United States of America. Even she deserved way better than this. Rico, I still to this very day don't understand a hundred percent why you did what you did to me. But I do know for certain that those men and those girls last night had something to do with it. I will set things right. And I promise you, I will never let that man hurt you again. I look deep into the mark on her face, dark and rigged; it was a fist that put that mark on her face, the fist of that blonde man, the one they called...Jean. If he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long, not if I had anything to do with it. I shake those thoughts out of my head and look back to the sleeping beauty, the one this beast has been longing for all these years. And this beast has no intention of giving her up.

I walk back to the couch and take a seat. I keep my eyes on Rico, even as I down another gulp of the brew. It's been nearly twelve hours since I found her. I just can't wait for her to wake up. All the things I want to say to her, all the things I want to ask her. The hard part of course will be putting it all into words. I already know the words for it, there's only three. If only it were that simple to say, if only it made sense. But I guess it wasn't suppose to make sense. It never had before, not when I first met her in that alley behind the hotel nor when I saw her the next day in that empty hallway, when I was looking down the recieving end of a gun (for the first time in my life). And there's Rico still sleeping peacefully as my mind twists with questions and my soul warm with joy moments earlier cringes with sorrow and regret. With one long swig I down the last of the brew. I set the empty bottle on the floor and look back at the angelic ghost of my past sleeping on the bed nearby. Her face warms me again and all the pain melts away into nothingness. I smirk at myself, how predictable I can be. "Rico," I say outloud. "One day I swear you will be the death of me." I pause to think about what I just said. Then I laugh.

DWIGHT: earlier that morning.

I gun the Cadie back up the snowy road the Kid and I fled down earlier tonight. It's already been more than an hour, the killer suites and the girls are definatly gone by now and if I know Shlub and Klump. They should just be arriving about now. The skys are clear now and full of stars glistening brighter than the snow flakes that blanket the barren desert road but dark clouds are closing in from all sides and I know the real storm is yet to come. The headlights of the Cadie cut through the dark of the night like a knife through butter and Agamemnonds place is less than a mile away now. I switch the head lights off. And let the full moon and stars light my path. Agamemnond's place comes into view and I ease off the gas pedal and coast to a stop about fiffty yards from the house, a black corrvet now visible in the drive way. Fat Man and Little Boy are their usual selves, all balls and no brains. I quietly get out of the car and step lightly through the snow. As I get closer I notice the large and small figures clad in leather jackets and hunched over on the ground struggling with a large black plastic bag. I can hardly wait to hear this. As I get closer their conversation makes it's way to my ears.

"I can only express my feelings of total rage and subsequent wrath at the current circumstances Mr. Shlub," the short skinny one casually groans. "Surely such an irritating, unnerving and for that matter...unusual situation has never happened upon either of us in our entire history of this particular employment."

"I duely concur Mr. Klump," replies the large fat one. "Never has there once been a said, stiff, so awkwardly massive; in a word, obesse. That of every desposal package we have brought forth, none have succeeded in properly conceiling our would be cargo." he finishes with a shrug and tosses a torn black trash bag to the snow covered ground.

"It is mildly amuzing however, my copulant compadre," Klump begins. "That should you in time to come find yourself in our said, would be cargo's, perdicament. You yourself would no doubt be much greater a burden upon they to transport your inanimate remains to their final resting place," he finishes with a smirk.

The fat man grimaces at the statement. "A most darkly humorous thought indeed," agrees Shlub. "However, your attempt at lightening the darkened mood has failed to produce a validative solution to the problem at hand my most minut companion."

The two of them pause for a moment, sitting in the snow with Agamemnond's corps lying between them. "Hear ye Mr. Shlub I do believe I have resolved the situation," Klump breaks the silence.

"Pray do tell Mr. Klump, such a resolution is long over due," Shlub replies.

"Although the lamentation of the actions to subsequently follow this explaination is without a doubt most sickening to say the least, I fear this course of action is our only alternative to accomplish our assigned task," Klump begins. "If you will remember Mr. Shlub, upon the past week end on our weekly erand to the Hard Ware Store. We had purchased a most handsomely fashioned hack saw and better still, through all the ends of my memory I have no recollection of ever removing it from the trunk of our most sporty of vehicular transportations," he finishes with a resolved grin and nods in the direction of the black corrvet.

Shlub's eyes widen in realization. "A most astounding recollection Mr. Klump," he nodds to his partner in crime. "Indeed a fortune of chance. Yet I cannot help but reserve a slight faction of regret that such an obvious solution did not occur to me first."

"I assure you Mr. Shlub there is no call what so ever to hold yourself to sorrow nor to dwell on your wounded pride," Klump offers in comfort to his companion.

The two of them rise to their feet and turn to their car behind them. And there I am, standing only five yards away from them, cutting them off from the corrvet. Their eyes widen with recognition. I shoot them a menacing smirk. "Hi guys," I greet them.

They stare at me in silence for about ten seconds. "I can only express my utmost feelings of surprise and subsequent terror Mr. Shlub," Klump finally remarks.

"I regretfully concur Mr. Klump," replies Shlub.

Quickly adapting to this situation, Shlub charges me like a mad bull. I duck low and counter with a strong upward punch to his jaw. Shlub stumbles and falls backwards, once again his poor memory gets the best of him. You'd think he'd remember the identical treatment he recieved the last time he attacked me like so. Klump pulls out a magnum. I quickly draw my forty five. Klump is already taking aim. I fire. I hit him in the right shoulder, blood sprays from the wound and he tumbles backwards into the snow beside Agamemnond. His hand stricken with pain from the injury further up releases the forty four magnum. I casually walk over and pick up the hand cannon, just to be safe. Klump is nearly whimpering. I hold my gun in his face and pull back the hammer. "Just tell me who your working for and I'll leave, I'll even let you keep your legs this time," I tell him calmly.

He gasps heavily. "SWA!" he manages. "Top pocket!" he says and nodds to his upper left jacket pocket. I reach into it myself and come out with a small buissness card, the letters SWA inscribed on one side; the words Social Welfare Agency written benethe the letters. The flip side contines with a few 800 numbers and mailing addresses. I've never heard of the agency in my life but given what I've seen so far of them, they could be problematic to say the least.

"Thanks," I nodd to Klump and holster my forty five. I pocket the card and make my way back to the Cadie with the magnum tight in my grip, leaving fat man and little boy lying in a mixture of blood and snow. I climb into the drivers seat and plop the forty four in the glove compartment. It never hurts to have a spare piece. I look to the east, sunrise is just barely peeking over the horizon, I can't risk being seen on the road to old town in the daylight, I'll have to head for Sacred Oaks and get back in touch with the kid tommorow night. I start up the car and high tail it down the road to the west racing against the oncoming sunrise. Damn I love this car.

RICO: just after sunset (the following night).

I open my eyes, It was the same nightmare as always. I'd been having it off and on for years now. I thought it was finally gone forever, but then suddenly it was back again...and I found myself in that exact same long hallway, dressed in that same gown with a bonett on my head and a silenced pistol in my hand and I was just a little girl again. I was running...running desparetly, as if looking for someone. Someone I wanted so much to see and to be with, but I was afraid. Afraid of finding him, because when I find him I knew exactly what I was going to do. And I felt my brothers hand on my head and I heard him tell me "If anyone sees you it's your duty to kill him." I wanted to cry but the tears won't flow. And I continued to run down that infinantly long hallway white doors lining both walls. For what felt like hours I sprinted down the empty hallway, gun in hand, then I saw something, something red and about my height. As I came closer I saw it more clearly. Eventually it formed into...a boy...a boy in a red bellhop uniform. It's him! I was overcome with a wave of joy and sorrow. I stopped only a few feet away from him. He jumped, as if he did not see me coming, then he smiled as he recognized me. He said my name. I knew exactly what to say but I didn't want to say it. Then he looked confussed and said my name again. I raised my pistol and took aim at his chest. He did not seem to understand right away. I told him "I'm sorry," with a sad smile. He gasped with realization and then the world went dark.

It had never been like this before, not for all these years. The hallway had vanished and I found myself in the middle of an enourmous black void. I could see no one but myself. There was no light either it was as if I was glowing, like a star in the night sky. I lowered my weapon. Then suddenly they boy appeared in front of me and so did my brother. The two of them turned to each other, each pointing a silenced pistol at the other. "Rico, shoot him!" my brother commanded me without even taking his eyes off the boy.

"No Rico, please don't!" the boy cried. "Shoot him!" he said without looking away from my brother. I stood shocked and confussed. Part of me wanted to listen to my brother but another part of me wanted to listen to the boy. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even lift my weapon...only stare.

"That's an order Rico!" my brother demanded.

"I thought we were friends Rico!" the boy begged.

"You owe me your life Rico!" shouted my brother.

"You don't owe him anything!" cried the boy.

"I trained you to obey!" roared my brother.

"He dosen't care about you!" the boy wailed.

"I OWN YOU!" demanded my brother.

The boy lowered his weapon, turned away from my brother and looked into my eyes. "I care," he spoke to me so gently I couldn't help but allow a tear to escape. My brother prepared to shoot as the boy stared at me as if in a trance. I shut my eyes and raised my pistol. I screamed in pain as I pulled the trigger. I heard the shot...I felt the recoil...I opened my eyes...

And now I am here, in this strange room dimley lite by a lamp not very far from my face. There's a heavy blanket covering me, but it gives me warmth. Despite the comfort of the bed I begin to pant with confussion. Where am I? Where is Jean? and Henriette and Triela?

"So your finally awake!" a gentle voice emerges from the darkness. I try to ask who is there but through my gasps for breath the words never come out. Just then a familiar face appears in the dim light not very far from my face. It's a man, about my age with dark hair and the beginings of a beard and mustache. My eyes begin to adjust and I can make out his black jacket. It's him! From last night. But no not just from last night! That face! The scar on his chest! What he said to me! Could it really be? Yes! It is him! My eyes widen as I look deep into the dark brown eyes in front of me, eyes I have not seen in years. He returns my gaze with a weak smile, he knows I recognize him. "Hello Rico," he says so gently I can't help but let a tear escape down one side of my face.

"E...Emilio!" I gasp. He nods then stretches his hand out of the shadows and whips the tear from my right cheek. His hand is so warm.

"Don't worry Rico, I'm not going to hurt you," he says. "Right now you just need to rest and relax, I'll take care of everything."

I shake my head to wake myself up. "Oh no, it's all right," I smile. "I'm fine now, really," I tell him. Then a bolt of panic shoots through my entire body as I realize I can't move. My eyes widen and I'm breathing heavy again. I try to sit up again and again and again, but something grips me with an unyielding hold.

Emilio notices something is wrong. "Rico, what's wrong?" he asks with obvious concern.

"Emilio!" I whimper. "I can't move!" I gasp, bearly more than a whisper.

Emilio sighs with relief. "It's alright Rico, nothing is wrong," he replies. He then reaches over and pulls the blanket down from my neck to reveal that my entire body is overlaped in a web of chains and handcuffs. The binds are a blanket all themselves curling around me and fastening me to the bed. I am trapped, trapped in the bed. Just like before...before the agency...before Jean. I still occationally have nightmares of lying in a hospital bed, unable to move. People yelling and fighting constantly around me. I hate that bed...I hate it! I never want to go back to it again!

"Emilio let me out of here! Please!" I beg him.

He shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry Rico I can't," he says. "I don't know if I can trust you yet."

I know why. My heartbeat races. It's becasue of back at the hotel years ago. He's afraid of what I did, what I might do, what I almost did last night. "Emilio please!" I shriek, almost screaming. "Please unchain me! I won't do what I did last time I promise," I wail like a child, tears flowing from my eyes. "I won't hurt you this time, I'll be good I sware, just please unchain me!"

Emilio seems suprised at this, even shocked at my actions. Whatever reaction he was expecting from these trapings, this definetly wasn't it. "Relax Rico," he says, his eyes full of concern. "It's only for a little while, until I know for sure I can trust you."

"No!" I scream. I shut my eyes and begin to shake and squirm wildly. hoping to break the chains. Like a butterfly struggling to free itself from it's cocoon. I soon feel a gentle but firm hand on my head and another hand cuffs under my chin. I can feel Emilio's weight on my chest trying to hold me steady.

"Rico!" I hear him yell. "Rico, listen to me!" I continue to struggle but he holds me tightly. Eventually my strength gives out and I lay there in bed trapped in a chained prison. Emilio still holds me, not to tame or contain anymore, but to comfort. As tight as I squize my eyes shut the tears continue to flow, like water stubornly running through the small narrow opening of a mountain spring. I feel his fingers softly whiping the tears away. "Open your eyes Rico," he orders softly. I obey him just as I would Jean. I look up into his handsome brown eyes. "I will unchain you Rico," he tells me, his face is solid as steel. I begin to relax. "But I can't do it now," he says. "Someone else has the keys to the cuffs and padlocks," he explains and motions to the spool of chains that envelope me. "I need to go downstairs and get them."

I shake my head. "No, please; don't leave me alone," I beg him. Other nightmares of lying on my back, alone, for what seemed like centuries continue to haunt my sleep as well.

"I have to, to get the keys" he tells me with regret. "It won't be long," he assures me as he rises to his feet and disappears into the dark.

"No, please!" I cry into the darkness. I hear the turning of a door nob, seconds later light flashes into the room in the shape of a door opening and I see Emilio standing in the light of a hallway beyond the opened door of the room.

He looks into my eyes, even from across the room his eyes are just as piercing. "Don't worry," he says. "I won't be long," he finishes. And the door closes, a wave of darkness sweeps away the light. Only the dim light of a weak lamp on the nights stand beside the bed keeps me company. I tell myself to calm down, that Emilio will be back soon. That he would not abandon me. Then I realize...I am such a fool. Of course he is not coming back this is his revenge! He means to leave me for dead just as I left him. Maybe eventually someone will come to finish the job, but for now he knows I hate being trapped and being alone. Once again I am imprisoned, just like in the nightmares. And I doubt Jean will find me this time. I may not even be in the same country anymore, I could have been out for days! I have to get out! I need to get out! I MUST GET OUT! I start struggling again, harder and more desparate than before. The chains are strong but maybe, if I keep at it long enough...maybe!

It takes me several minutes but eventually I break the chains. The cuffs snap even easier. I brush the chains from my body and rise from the bed. I'm now standing naked in the dim light. I step into the darkness and within a few moments my eyes are adjusted to it. I scan the walls for a light switch. I find it next to the door Emilio exited through and flip it. The room is illuminated by a large lamp hanging from the ceiling. It's a very plain room, and looks old. A TV in the corner across from the bed, a window with the draps closed adjacent to the TV and a couch on the opposite side of the bed with five empty beer bottles lying on the floor beside it. There is a coat stand beside the door with a white robe hanging on it. I snatch the robe and cover up as best I can. Then I walk to the window and pry open the draps. I see a snow blanketed town, surrounded by mountains and woods. I may not be very far from where I was. I'm about ten stories from the ground, maybe more. All I need to do is make my way down and escape into the woods, I'll make my way to the highway from there and then to the city...and Jean and Henriette. I turn to the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's notes: I hope you all paid attention to the last chapter because as you can see if you are reading this now is in fact rated M. Why? You may ask, because...well you'll know soon enough. I would like to thank my number one reviewer but I am not mentioning any names. I know the girls lost most of their limbs and some organs but their skin! I do not recall them saying that in series or the manga but then I haven't read all of the manga so...Never the less that will not be an issue here. Besides which if my memory of both the series and the manga serves me well the girls can bleed can't they. Anyway look forward to another fun filled chapter of mayham and maybe even a little romance. Enjoy and please review.

THE KID

Whatever I was expecting from our first private meeting in over half a dozen years, this was not it! "If I had known she would have reacted that way to the damn chains I wouldn't have used them," I tell myself as I make my way out the front door of the apartment building and across the street to the building aply labled "The Alamo." The streets are well snowed, until the plower comes through here there is no way anyone is driving in or out of Old Town. I curse myself for making her cry. God knows she made me do a whole lot more than cry, but somehow I can't bring myself to want the same for her; as if I didn't know why. I push through the front doors and make my way to the main dance room. Not to many people on floor, about a dozen or so, danceing to the darkly enticing music blasting from the sterio system speakers spread throughout the room. None of that concerns me, my only thoughts are on the raven haired chocolate skined beauty at the bar with a familiar head of poorly kept hair suckling on the top of her breast, visible from her degeneratly low cutt tank top. Gail herself looking straight up into the air moaning deeply with her eyes shut, no doubt imagining it's Dwight caressing her chest with his mouth. Sometimes the people of this city get on my nerves, now is one of those times. I walk up to them, neither one of them seems to notice me. "Hi Weavel," I greet my hairy friend.

He turns from his feast with a grunt of confusion, his eyes widen when he recognizes me. I give him a smile. "Awe shit!" he growls and leaps from his bar stool. All these years and he's still to damn slow, I grab him by the hair before he's made three feet and slam his face down on the bar with a loud thud. He struggles like child, weekly and wildly.

"It's okay Weavel," I tell him. "I'm not gonna hurt you," I say and press his face harder down on the bar. "I'm just here to pick something up," I assure him. He grunts in pain beneath my hands. I turn to Gail, she's still sitting on her bar stool; now smoking one of her black cigarettes retrieved from a nearby ash tray, as if nothing had happened. "Gail I need the keys to the cuffs and padlocks," I tell her.

She blows a smoke ring. "Sure thing Kid," she says with a slight grin and tossess a key chain to me.

I catch it with my right hand while pressing my left down even harder on Weavel. "Thanks Gail," I say with a smirk.

"No problem Kid," she returns with a wink. A silent thank you for giving a brief brake from her dirty, hairy work.

I turn back to Weavel, still futilly struggling and grunting like a muel fussing about being tied up in the barn. "Alright Weavel," I announce. "I'll let you get back to your fun, but first I want to make one thing clear," I tell him, he nods showing me he's listening. "You did not see me here, is that understood?" I ask. He nods with wail of pain. I ease my hand off of him, he remains in place on the bar, just to safe. "Good boy," I say with a broad smile and a nod. I turn away and head for the door. I pass by two women wearing nothing but g-strings, kissing each other passionatly. I look the other way almost instantly. "Well at least they didn't put me across the street from the AMIGO," I say to myself.

I slip the keys into my coat pocket as I step out on to the snow covered side walk. I freeze in my tracks, not because of the freezing wind or the light shower of snow begining to fall around me but at the blonde haird, blue eyed beauty who just stepped out of the apartment building I only just exited five minutes ago and is wearing nothing but a white robe. She hasn't noticed me. She looks left then right down the road, as if trying to figure out where she is. I am not even going to bother asking myself how the hell she got out of those chains. "Rico!" I call to her. She looks my way and her eyes widen. I know what she's about to do, I look her straight in the eyes and shake my head. She cringes as if in pain and darts down the side walk to her right. "Rico don't!" I shout as I charge after her. She's fast...really fast...but I can handle it. I have to. I can't loose her again. I won't loose her again. She's about thrity yards ahead of me when she comes to a fork in the road, she stops in the middle of the street. She scans left then looks right just in time to be blinded buy a pair of strong head lights and deafened by the loud blare of a truck horn. I haven't stopped or slowed down. I leap into her at top speed clearing us both of the road and the snowplower. We land on a pile of snow beside a fire hydrant. She looks up into my eyes with a sense of both gratitued and defeat. She dosen't say anything but as I look deeper into her eyes I realize why she ran. I pull the keys out of my pocket and hold them between her head and mine. "I just had to get the keys Rico," I tell her. "I would never abandon you," she shuts her eyes and blushes with embarassment. She truly thought I going to leave her for dead, it dosen't surprise me much, given that she did the same to me. I rise to my feet and hold a hand down to her. She looks at and then to me. "I promise I will never chain you down again Rico," I tell her. She looks deeper into my eyes, she knows I'm telling the truth. She gives me an apologetic smile, then reaches up and takes hold of my hand.

[meanwhile, BASIN CITY HOSPITAL

Hillshire and Jose step into the restroom. It's a well kept place, floors squaky clean, the fresh sent of air fresheners and not a sound to be heard. The two of them look around, all stalls are closed all urinals are unattended, confident that they have the restroom to themselves they resume their conversation. "I have a bad feeling about this Hillshire," says Jose.

"You think I don't?" Hillshire replies almost raising his voice. "In all the eight years we have been active, never once has one of our operatives been taken captive during an operation; at least not unintentionally," He continues. "But Jean says and so dose the director. We can't call this off and we can't leave Rico behind. We need her now more than ever."

"I know, damnit!" Jose responds as he runs his hand through his raven colored hair. "But something isn't right something is off," he explains in deep thought.

"What do you mean?" asks Hillshire with confusion.

"That kid, the one who made off with Rico, you remember how he looked at her and the way he talked to her. It's almost as if...as if he knew her," Jose explains with effort, as if he is still trying to piece the puzzle together.

"Yes I remember, but that's not possible. You know it's not," Hillshire replies with equal thought. "Unless he knew her from one of our past missions, you think he might be conected with the remnants of Padania?" he asks.

"No not him," replies Jose. "You've seen the way Padania works, their quick leathal and professional about their work," he explains. "But this kid, he was more like a brawler than a professional. He threw Rico off target in the tree by hitting a baseball at her and smashing her rifle's barrel. Triela took him down without a problem and the jokes he started cracking the minute he came to; no terrorist would be that stupid to crack jokes like that when captured."

"I see your point but he did manage to blow half your brothers face off," Hillshire points out grimly.

"Yes but that was pure dumb luck!" says Jose. "One blind shot into the snow!" Jose scratches his head and begins to pace around the restroom. "The man we're looking for has a lot of guts, super strong will and a truck load of luck...well and plenty of experience in brawling."

"Shoot, maybe this kid is some bar room brawler. There's no shortage of bars around this god forsaken city," says Hillshire.

"Wait a minute," Jose gasps and stops pacing. "Thats it!"

"Thats what?" asks Hillshire.

"The Bar me and Jean stopped at the other night!" Jose explains. "That's where I've seen this kid before. He was sitting just across from Jean, Henriette and Me!"

"Well there you have it," Hillshire smiles. "Earlier you said you and Jean were discussing the mission at the bar so the kid over heard it and went off to rescue our recently departed photo developer."

"I know but we were speaking Italian the whole time we were there," Jose's eyes widen with realization. "Which means the kid must be Italian. And that scar on his chest, it looked like some kind of bullet wound."

"That's true, I'd figure it must have been a point blank shot from the look of it," Hillshire says with a nod. "I'm still not seeing the conection here, I mean how do you know the kid was Italian?" he asks. "Maybe ethnically, but some kids in this country learn a second language."

Jose shakes his head. "Not this kid. Did you see how old the kid was?" Jose asks. "He's probably still in high school. The only language kids learn in high school around here is english and maybe a little spanish."

Hillshire's cell phone rings. He flips it open and greets the caller. Hillshire listens for a few moments then thanks the caller and flips his cell shut. "That was Rourke," Hillshire says. "He's already given the order to have the roads to and inside Old Town plowed. In a few hours we should be good to go."

"Good, I'll send Henriette in ahead of us to scout out the area," says Jose. "I'll even call up Marco at the hotel and get Angelica and Claese down here."

"Not that you can call that a hotel," Hillshire laughs. "They didn't even have bellhops," he says still smiling.

Jose pauses and turns to the large mirror behind the sinks. "Hotel...Bellhop...oh course!" he exclaims, in deep thought again. He stares into the depths of his eyes, as if trying to penatrate into the darkest corners of his mind to unveil the memory he desires.

"Now what?" asks Hillshire with a hint of frustration.

"Oh damnit," says Jose as he continues to stare into his own eyes in the mirror. "I think I may have figured out our friend from the bar. I'll explain later though, now we need to move." Jose turns from the mirror and heads for the door.

"I still don't like the idea of Jean going with us," says Hillshire as he follows Jose to the restroom door.

"Neither do I but you know Jean," Jose says. "Even if the doctors didn't say he was well enough he'd still be coming with us. "He wants his weapon back," He finishes coldly as they exit...Leaving me alone in the restroom.

Sometimes I even amaze myself, this is one of those times. I rise from my seat and push the door to my stall open. I look into my refection in the mirror on the wall behind the sinks as I exit the stall. I still can't decide if I like my old face better than my current one. I guess it really dosen't matter now. I make my way to the back exit of the hospital and step out into the growing snowfall. Good thing I parked the cadie a few blocks away. Wouldn't want those killer girls to find me now, alone, without a gun, even though I doubt any of them saw the cadie through that storm last night. I make my way to the main road and stop at a pay phone. I enter the change and dial the number. A few rings later the voice of my warrior woman strokes my ears. "Gail, it's Dwight. Get the girls ready, the bad guys are coming."

MARIA meanwhile

I make my way up the steps to the Old Man's office. It was a hell of a drive all the way out here to the mansion, thank god for four wheel drive, but worth it for what old man Wallinquist pays. The interior of the mansion is just what you'd expect from a man of his profession; a grand hallway at the entrance, large portriats of himself and the family hanging on the walls and glittering chandeliers in every room. The mansion itself is an imposing sight from the outside as well, several acres of land atop a hill; especially with the weather like it is. A true classic the Old Man is.

I nock patiently at the oak double doors at the peak of the grand stair case. "Come in," the Old Man's raspy voice pierces the thick doors. I turn the well shined brass knobs and push my way into the bosses office. Large book cases line the paralell walls to my left and right. About twenty yards ahead of me is the old man's desk topped with a light stack of paper work and a few note pads lit by a small desk lamp. To the left of the desk stands the Boss himself. A heavy set man dressed only in a robe and slippers, bald from forehead to the top with a whithering bush of gray hair clinging to the sides. He is facing away from me; looking out the massive window that makes up the entirety of the wall behind his desk. A cigar is visible in his right hand, he raises the stogie to his lips and takes a long puff. The sent of tobacco is already strong and gaining potency. Soft traces of whiteness glid down from the black sky beyond the window, the beginings of a storm no doubt. The Old Man seems deep in thought as if lamenting on the coming storm, perhaps with fear, perhaps with anticipation, perhaps with enjoyment.

I remove my glasses and run my hand through my amber colord hair; presentation makes all the difference in this bussiness. "You wanted to see me Boss?" I greet with a cool inviting voice.

"Yes Maria," answers the Old Man. He turns to me, his eyes are as stone cold as ever. In his left hand he holds a newspaper. "You've noticed the head lines haven't you?" he asks as he holds out the paper for me to see. 'THE FIVE FAMILIES MURDERED!' it reads.

"I have indeed Boss," I reply. "I should think that would be a good thing. Your competition has been terminated." I look back into his eyes, they are even colder than before. Clearly he dose not agree.

"On the contrary Maria," says the Boss. "I allowed the five families to remain for the purpose of putting up a proverbial smoke screen for my bussinesses. With that smoke screen now gone, my bussinesses will now be more vulnerable to exposure and this also brings to mind the question of who exactly was responsible for the attack. That Maria, is where you come in," the Old Man explains. "You are to make your way to Old Town and question a guest of the Ladies."

"You think the girls had something to do with the attack?" I ask.

"I am not certain of that," replies the Boss as he takes another long puff of his cigar, the smoke billows from is mouth like fire from the jaws of a dragon. "But one thing for certain, a young man and a strange young woman have gone into hidding in Old Town under the protection of the Ladies," he continues. "They have taken refuge in the apartment building just across the street from the Alamo club, probably on the top floor. You are to proceed there and interogate the young man and the girl...especially the girl."

"One of the girls on your payroll Boss?" I ask out of curiousity, not usually a good thing when addressing the Old Man but incase the shit hits the fan it'd be good to know you have a friend close by.

"No," he answers. "No mistakes this time, I gain most of my inteligence from respective customers of the Ladies. You would be surprised how much loose information can be found on the streets of Old Town. Even with the Ladies secrecy, something alwasys slips through the cracks."

"What's so special about the girl Boss?" I ask. "Sounds like you have a particular interest in her."

"Indeed I do," the Boss says with tooth smile. "It seems rumor has risen of an agency of foreign origins has made it's way here to the states...looking for someone," the Bosses eyes narrow and his smile fades back to the shadows. "They are rumored to use young ladies as assasins, all highly trained; similarly to a military force."

"Looking for someone?" I repeat. "Friend of yours I persume?"

The Old Man turns back to the window. "You know all you need know for now Maria," he says. "Go now, and report back to me when you've finished."

"Yes sir," I reply without a second thought to it. When the Boss says you know enough that's your cue to mind yourself and make yourself scarce. I turn on the ball of my heel and make my way back to the oak doors I came in from. I close the doors behind me and decend down the grand stair case. I feel something tingling in the back of my mind about the whole thing, I'm not one to believe in luck but something about this job gives me the sent of bad ju ju. I quickly shake that thought out of my mind. "Besides," I think to myself. "It can't possibly be any worse than the soldier," the bitter memory of that man still fresh in my head.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors notes: Hello everyone. Welcome to chapter seven. I'm sure you must all be enjoying yourselves. Get ready for a real heart warmer. Enjoy and please review.

THE KID

We enter the room together, the lights are still on and the chains are strewn all over the floor; only the first bothers me, even though it's long after dark. I flip the light switch off and darkness all but engulfs the room save for the bedside lamp. Arm in arm we walk over the broken chains and sit down on the bed together. The light from the lamp allows us to see each other, though shadows linger heavily around us. Her body is soft and warm beneath the robe. We look into each others eyes. We stare into each other for what feels like hours. An awkward feeling squeezes between us. Her blue eyes break away from mine and sink toward the ground. I know what's wrong and I know now is about as good a time as ever to confront it. My eyes slide to the floor as well. Rico finally breaks the silence. "Emilio, I'm," she tries to pacify the problem by whipping out an old classic, one she'd used before. I wasn't going to let her.

"Sorry," I finish for her. She gasps and razes her eyes back to me. I return her gaze. Her eyes quickly evolve from shock to saddness as her eyes meet mine. I've hardened my face to the very brink of a glare. Her eyes begin to glisten but no tears fall. She's regained some of her strength, good. I have no inention of whipping tears away at the moment. I know it hurts baby but if we don't confront this monster now it will consume us both.

Rico tries again. "I," she begins.

"Why did you do it Rico?" I demand like a traffic cop demanding a license. Her face drops to floor again. She remains silent, like a child afraid to tell her parents the truth. "Answer me Rico," I almost growl.

"I had to," she says faintly.

I had thought it would be something like that. "Why?" I ask harshly.

"You saw me," she says just as faintly.

She thinks she can fix this by being vague. "I saw you the day before, why didn't you kill me then?" I ask. My voice is as sharp as Miho's sword.

She pauses for a moment, as if trying to comprehend everything herself. "I don't know," she answers.

"You didn't think you'd run into me again did you?" I ask her. She gives no reply, she dosen't even look up. "It was for him, wasn't it?" she looks up, I've got her attention. "That blonde man from yestarday, Jean?" Her eyes widen, I'm dead on. "Let me guess, you told him no one saw you that day. But he saw right through your bullshit. And he told you if anyone ever saw you again you were to kill him. Bet he hit you that time too didn't he just like last night?"

"No, not that day he did not," she replied quickly.

"But he did tell you to kill me, didn't he?" I ask. After a few moments pause she nodds her head. "And like a loyal little dogy you obeyed," I say mockingly.

"I had to," she repeats herself.

"Bullshit!" I come closer to shouting.

"He is my brother," she insists. Her voice gains strength.

"You have a lot of nerve hand me that Rico," I'm not taking any shit. "There's not way that man is your brother. They way he treats you, they way he talks to you. How many times has he hit you? Or did you even keep count?" I'm plenty pissed off now. "I'll bet it was always for mundane things to, like not hitting your target well enough not running fast enough. He was your trainer wasn't he? He taught you everything he knew, didn't he? How to fight, how shoot, how to kill. They had you on drugs too didn't they to keep you nice and obidient, just the way Jean wanted you right?"

I'm not even finished when she breaks in. "It's because of him that I am alive today!" she shouts. I'm so surprised I nearly fall off the bed. "I have no memory of my life before the agency," she explains almost in tears. "But I still have nightmares to this day of being trapped in a hospital bed, unable to escape. My parents shouting and cursing at each other over me. And then they vanish and I am alone..." she pauses and sobbs into her hands for a few minutes. All I do is stare. Damn I'm such an insensative jerk sometimes. "Jean found me in the hospital and he brought me to the agency. They gave me a new body, I could finally move and be free. I made friends there too."

"And they trained you to kill," I break in. "You don't even know why you killed most of them do you?" I ask.

She pauses. "It did not matter to me, all I wanted was to be alive," she sobs. "To be free," she continues.

"That is not freedom Rico," I tell her, my voice softens. "Freedom is being who you want to be, without having to earn it," I explain. "Jean is not your brother, all you are to him is a slave to order around. He dosen't care about you."

"I have no other family," she says, no longer sobbing. "There is no one else for me."

I lean forward taking her hands into mine. She looks up into my eyes and sees how my face has softened. I am not angry anymore. "I'm here for you," I tell her. She manages a sad smile. I run my hand softly over her bruised eye. "I would never hurt you," I tell her softly.

Her smile vanishes. "I'm sorry Emilio," she says.

I give her a sad smile of my own. I press my forehead gently against hers. "I forgive you Rico," I tell her. She looks as if she is about to cry, but she dosen't. I trace a finger down her cheek then lean forward and kiss her...her eyes slide shut, I keep mine open, I have no intention of missing one instant of this. I allow my coat to slide off my back and onto the ground. My muscular torso and arms are now exposed in the dimly lit room. I put my arms around her and smoothly turn her over onto her back. Her eyes are no opened in surprise, her head resting softly on the pillow. The her ocean blue jewels lock with my hazel pearls. She gives me a dreamy smile that makes my heartbeat race faster than seabiscuit. She nods her head, she knows what I want and she wants it too. I'm not even going to ask myself how I could possibly have gotten this lucky.

-

The boy exits the elevator. Its not the normal time of the day to clean this floor, but daniel insisted. A bellhops work is truely never done. He looks around his all to familiar surroundings and immidiatly feels a strange sense of forebodding. It's not just that the hallway is barren and empty, it's the quiet; not a single laugh or shout from the rooms surrounding him. No music from the sterios no dialogue from the TVs. Just the quiet, the quiet reminicent of a cemetary, like the one he visits occationally to pay respects to his dearly departed mother...dead quiet.

-

I help Rico slide the robe off her skin, he skin feels like angel skin ought to feel; to soft to be real. I indulge my eyes in gazing down at her body...her trillion dollar body... Even in the dim light her body shines like an angels body ought to. The thrill of this ravishing sight is interupted only but the feeling of a soft hand now pressed against the scar in the center of my chest. I return my gaze to Rico's eyes. She's staring into my scar with guilt as if doubting she deserves the joy and pleasure she feels approaching. I take her hand into mine, flatten my body on top of hers and kiss her passionatly. She realizes I say she dose deserve it and kisses me back with equally passionate gratitude.

-

The boy shakes the sense of premonition out of his head and ventures down the hallway. He has a job to do and he's going to see it through. His attitude is not always shared by his co-workers but he knows it's the only way he will ever make it somewhere...anywhere in life. As he continues down the hall the doors tower over him, each of them a vortex leading into it's own world to be occupide temorarily by one then relinquished on to another. It had previously occured to the boy that perhaps one of the vortexes might one day revial it's occupants and all the troubles that might follow with them. He had shaken this childishly mystic idea out of his head but with the erie forebodding premonition he is begining to feel childish again. He then remembers his age then with a slight laugh at himself he continues his jeourney.

-

I enter her as gently but firmly as I can. I hear Rico gasp, I quickly look down into the blue abyss of her eyes. She smiles up at me and nods for me to continue. I sigh as best I can through my growing breaths, I was afraid I had hurt her. 'Just nature taking its course,' I assure myself. I begin to thrust gently, my breathing increases. Rico's dose the same. We join our hands again, we are joining together now. Entertwining into one being of joy and love. Body and soul. "The elite don't hang with the hell Kid," Daniel had told me years ago. 'How about now you fat bastard?' I ask him.

-

The boy turns the corner of the hallway and begins to walk down another straight passage of knobbed vortexes. Nothing has happened yet, he is certain if something was going to happen it would have happened by now. He ventures on with renewed confidence. Then it happens and the boy is no where near ready for it. With a swift swinging action, a vortex ahead and to the left of the boy opens and out steps the single most beautiful thing the boy has ever seen, one that he had seen only the day before. A golden haired blue eyed angel. The boy gasps in surprise, the little angel standing no taller than he dose the same.

-

Harder now, we both want it. I can feel it in her I can feel it just as sure as I could feel it in myself. We are both gasping for air. We both feel the fire approaching, burning hotter by the second. We feed the flame and grasp each other tightly contempt to be engulfed together as one.

-

"Hi, Rico," the boy finally manages as his senses return. His eyes are so lost in her's he dose not even notice the metalic object in her right hand. "What are you doing here?" he asks her in confusion. "And why are you in a hotel uniform?" he asks recognizing her chamber maid gown and remembering that she was not an employee of the hotel. He looks in her eyes in question. She stares back blankly as if trying to remember something. "Rico?" he insisits.

"Of course, I remember," she finally announces.

-

The fire, it burns closser. It's going to incinerate us both. We feel it closser and closser. Every breath takes us closser. The flames are closing in!

-

The boy is shocked at the angels words, but stunned to numbness as she raises her arm. Instants latter he realieses he is now looking down the barrel of a silenced pistol. A cold black tube prepared to deliver the hand of death. The boy's eyes return to his angels in horror and confussion. The Angel returns his gaze with a sad smile, "I'm sorry." her musical voice sings in requiem.

-

The flame engulfs us, an explosion is felt within us. Our voices join in a cry of pleasure, satisfaction, joy, sorrow and longing.

-

A faint flash tears across the boys eyes, a whisper of an explosion breaks the dead quiet of the hallway. He falls to his knees as the hand of death burns into his chest only inches away from his heart. With a forward leaning motion he flattens himself against the floor, the hand of death continues to burn the inside of his chest, but he dose not scream. His job, his angel, the hand of death grasping just out of reach of his heart...None of it matters to the boy now. Only one thing maintains a hold on his conciousness. Just one word, one question...WHY?

-

The two of us lay on the bed together, entengled in each other. The dim lamp burned out only seconds ago, the room is now dark accept for the moonlight from the nearby window. Her face is flattened against my chest, my chin rests gently on her head. I softly tossel her hair. We've both regained our breath now. But our energy is spent and we both feel ourselves drifting into sleep. I just have one more thing to say. "I love you Rico," I tell her softly.

Just before it all fads into the night I hear my angels voice sing. "And I love you...Emilio."


	8. Chapter 8

Authors notes: Hello everyone, sorry it took me so long to write this chapter, but being in the navy can be a busy line of work and I hope this will make all that up to you. Enjoy and please review this time.

THE KID

There's one for the confessional booth. I sit up and slide my feet to the floor as softely as I can. I don't want to wake the sleeping angel beside me. I look over my shoulder at her, the woman of my dreams still laying sound asleep, her head gentley resting on the pillow. I softley trace my finger down the silk smooth skin of her cheek, just scraping her golden hair. I can't help but bend my mouth into a smirk. She's sleeping so peacefully, I wander if she always sleeps this well? Probably not. 'I'm sorry I couldn't do better for us Rico,' I say in my head. I cringe as I look around the slopy sleezy mess of a room we're in. If only things had gone different for us baby. I could have done so much better. A wedding by the Pope in Vatican City. A honeymoon night in the finest suit in the Hotel Vil Gade. I could have done so much better...go figure we ended up with this. A lousey room in a lousey brothel in a lousey part of a lousey town. There's nothing sacred about this, I'm no better than that worm Weavel or anyother scumbag who comes down to this neighborhood. I allow my head to drop almost into my lap. How much better I could have done for her...It sickens me to think about it.

"Don't let it get to ya Kid," I hear Marvs' voice say in my head, like he always said when things got me down. A sad smile finds its way to my face. I look up into the dark emptyness of the room and I can almost see Marv standing there. "Don't let her go Kid, Don't let anyone hurt her and don't let anyone come between you and her," he says sternley. I say nothing. He steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let what happened to me happen to you."

I swallow hard and look him dead in the eyes. A single tear treads down my face. "I won't," I answer outloud, my voice quivers with emotion.

Marv steps back and his huge chin nodds decisively. "Darn right you won't," he says with a brief smirk. "Keep fightin Kid," he finishes as he vanishes into the dark emptiness of the room. Another tear trains from my other eye, I let them both flow. Keep fighin Kid, Marv had always said that to me; ever since he took me under his wing. Everytime an older boy beat me up or I was feeling down he told me that same thing. I haven't heard those words in almost a year. And even though I know I only imagined that he was here, its worth it.

I look back down to her face and that smirk eases back in. My Rico, my angel, I won't let you go, I won't let anyone hurt you and I won't let anyone come between you and me. "I love you Rico," I softely whisper. "If we make it through this I will never let you out of my sight again. Your mine now, and I am yours," I finish. I softley ease my self back down beside her.

MARIA

I make my way down to Old town in the cheap old car Boss told me to take. It's not my style but given the weather I supose it makes more sense than the convertable. The roads are surprisingly clear though, what with all the snow dropping. The city usually takes care of Old Town last when the blizzards hit, given the neighborhood's nature most people in the city counsel have a very low opininon of the place despite that fact that half the board make frequent trips to Old Town, for obvious reasons. Even with that asside, I don't like the feel of it tonight. I've been down here more than my fair share of times on more than my fair share of jobs. I usually get some similar feeling to this on the way down here, when I just know that some horny punk is going to mistake me for a hooker and make a grab at me and I'm going to have squash his balls in my fist and somehow clear it with the ladies. But it's different tonight, somethings off here, the streets are deserted naturally; what with all the cold and the snow. But I can't quite place this itching feeling in the back of my head. I haven't felt this feeling since...since him...that damn soldier. I shake him out of my head instantly, I don't need any distractions; not tonight.

I park the T-Bird about four blocks away from the apartment complex and make my way into the back alleys. Even with my new furr coat over my kevlar jumsuit, the cold still creeps through to my bones; which dosen't help to numb that itching feeling. I devise a plan of action as I navigate the maze of alleyways between the buildings beside and behind my point of interest. I'll make my way to the back door get inside and take the service elevator or stairs to the top. Worst case scenario I can't get in, I take the fire escape up. It's pretty late so I'll probably catch them with their pants down...literally, given the location. I emerge from another long corridor of brick walls and the back door of the building is in sight. My mood heightens, just a quick run up stairs, an ambush in the dark followed by a subsequent dragging of two unconcious bodies down the stairs through the alleyways and back to the T-Bird, I'll drop them off at the Bosses place then go home and call it a night. I quicken my pace. A six sense warns me just a fraction of a second in time to jerk my head back. A spinning sharp object flashes past my face like a bolt of lightning, just millimeters away from my neck. I hear the beating of metal on brick to my left and I turn instantley to the right and gaze up at a raven haired ninja perched on the railing of the fire escape of my targets apartment building. A skinny little thing wearing only a scarf, small boots and a skin tight nylon jumpsuit. She looks short and frail but what makes me nervous for a second is her eyes, both of them an oven heated by a raging fire; a fire which burns down her face, her arms and into a stainless steel (almost silver) Katana in her hand.

I slowly turn my head to the left and eye the missile she had hearled at me. It's a hand size metal swatztika; all four ends bladed. And impaled to the wall beneath the swatztika is a four inch strip of furr, furr which is the same color as the coat I am wearing. I glance down at myself. The spiraling blade had torn a large portion of the collar off my brand new furr coat! Now it's personal! I glance up at the pearched hawk with the glare of an angry lioness. "This suit cost me ten grand you WHORE!" I roar with avengence. The hawk dosen't even squak a reply. She only stares and frowns down on her...not so quiet prey. After a moments pause she steps off the railing, fiffteen feet off the ground and lands with ease on the snow. She now stands about fiffteen yards away from me and with a swinging motion she extends her blade. I get the message. I let my coat slide down my arms and onto the snow and draw two combat knives from my blet. I lean into a combat stance and bring the blades, clenched in my fists, level with my face and look the ninja slut square in the eyes. "Lets dance Bitch," I growl.

Within the blink of an eye the ninja darts to me like a cheetah and brings her katana down on my head. She's fast...but so am I. Instantly I bring my two blades together and extend them above my forehead just in time to catch the ninja sluts' downward strike. Her steel sword locks with my titanium challis. Perfectly fit for the setting. Holding off the bitch's assualt, I quickly spin to my left and kick her low in the gut with all my strength. She may have speed but she's light as a feather to boot. She flys backwards into a pair of garbage cans like baseball into a catcher's mitt. I spin to my feet and brace for a counter- attack. But the little ninja lies limp between the cans. I lower my arms with a smirk and confidently take a few steps closser to the my unconcious assailant. "All to easy," I remark with disapointment. Then before I know it the ninja girl is on her feet, sword at the ready and charging the short distance between us. I dodge backwards and try to block her, too late. The tip of her sword slashes across my mid-section. It's not deep but it slices through my jumpsuit and skin and I can feel the steel burn in my abdomin for a brief fraction of a second. Reacting quickly I grab her sword arm with my right and land a hard-as-iron punch to her jaw with my left.

It knocks her back against the brick wall of a nearby brothel, stunning her for a few seconds, but all I can do is arch my back and clutch at the pain in my gut. It's not very deep, just scratched the surface is all she did, but that dosen't stop blood from seaping out. Not an immediate problem though, the lucky man who might one day find himself inside this jumpsuit will get so see much worse. The pain of the wound singes my senses but I fight through it. I look up and the ninja whore is back on her toes with her katana at the ready. Her face is as darkly calm and composed as alwasy with the addition of fist sized bruise on her right cheek and blood tearing down the side of her lip. Swallowing hard with the face of an enraged tigeress, I straighten my stance and bring my bladed fists back up to the ready. "Okay, teenaged mutant ninja slut," I announce. She dosen't even blink. "Your going down!" I growl as thrust myself forward into a buffalo charge straight at the skinny little twinki whore.

HENRIETTA

I look up at the brightly light nightclub-brothel in front of me. The words "The Alamo" exclaimed in neon light letters above the entrance, the club's subsequent slogan "to be remembered" dimley light in small letters beneath. I turn to the apartment building across the street; a faint dark spot of inamity. A plain housemaiden compared to the shimmering princess behind me. I cross the street, hardly a speck of snow beneath my feet as I walk; the snow plow did its job well. I'm climbing the concret steps to the apartment's main entrance when two other women exit the front doors infront of me. A blonde and a brunette both wrapped in dark furr coats, their hands close to their own chests, shoulders elevated and shivering head to toe in the winter night air.

"Gail told us to stay and help keep watch!" the blonde insists to the brunette to her left almost in anger.

"To hell with that, the Kid can take care of himself," the brunette replies. "Besides Miho's got it taken care of. She's keeping watch from the fire escape, if anything goes wrong she'll hull ass up to the top and lend a hand. It's not like anybody's gonna make trouble tonight anyway, it's too damn cold."

"They're in the honeymoon suite right?" the blonde asks.

"Right," the brunette grunts in reply.

"So the Kid finally found his girl," the blonde sings.

"Yeah, and about time," the brunette grumbles. "There's been plenty to choose from," she finishes.

They both walk right by me. Truely the cold has numbed their senses. I look up to the top floor windows of the building, it stands some stories higher than it's surrounding buildings, not a speck of light in any of the windows. I remember what the two women had said, I know where to go.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's notes: Well, I'm cranking this new one out now. Haven't gotten any reviews for the last one but it's okay, it's been way too long anyway. Here is another chapter of your fav fanfic. PS sorry for taking so long.

THE KID

I lay on the bed beside my angel. My arms are drapped over her from behind holding and subconciously caressing her perfect body. I'm barely awake. I want to hold her as long as I can. I wish to God I could press a button and stop time for everyone but my Rico and me. I wish we could just lay here holding each other and making love for milleniums on end. That way by the time we press play again and time catches up to us... We could both die that instant with a smile on our faces, looking into each other's eyes; ready to hold each other for another eternity inside the pearly gates. I almost cry when I realize it's not going to be that easy...not nearly. I hold her tighter, and caress her with more passion. I hear her moan in her sleep. That voice! I swear I must be in heaven already! They must have tracked us here and killed us both in our sleep. Rico...Even when we first met as kids, that angelic voice of yours dazzeled me! Every time I heard you speak...

I hear the lock on the door click and the door opens softly. In my half asleep daze I think it's Gail, Miho or even Wendy coming to check on me. I'm a little confused at why they didn't nock. I hear foot steps, soft ones coming through the door behind me. They're coming closer and closer by the second. I figure in a few seconds I'll be looking Gail or Wendy in the eyes and they'll be smiling and laughing that I've finally found the right girl. They might be a little jealous, they all respect me by now. If I had asked any of them they probably would have given themselves to me in an instant, after all I've done for them and how kind I've always been to them. It may be a blow to their pride that I was always immune to their charms, but I can tell that to at least some degree they respect me for it. I don't know whether to love these girls or hate them. I'm too good a catholic for the latter and I'm too smart to embrace the former. All the same; in a hell hole like this town, it's good to have friends.

The foot steps are right on top of us now. Then it hits me! Both my eyes shoot open like a hooker's legs. My ears and my nose both slap me hard across the face; snaping me out of my daze, punishing me for letting my guard down and bracing me for what's about to happen. That noise the lock made a moment ago, I've heard enough locks being picked in my day to know the difference between a key naturally unbolting a lock and a skilled thief forcing it open swiftly with a tool. And that smell, I've just begun to notice... No, it's not my Rico. It's a smell I smelled last night. I've smelled it at a few fancy resturants before and even at a music shop onces, the custodian of the shop told me it was a lubricant for violins. And the other night back at Kadie's I smelled it all over that little Brunette at the bar with those basterds! The footsteps stop. She's right behind me at the edge of the bed. I think back to a minute ago when I fantisized that my Rico and me were both already dead and embracing in heaven; killed by those I suited ass-holes from our homeland and Rico's fellow femenin assassins. Damn me! I jinxed myself!

My instincts take over. Within an instant, I've spun over on my back both my mitts in fists and lay one on the brunette's cheek good and hard with my left. I hit her just as hard with my right before swinging my legs into position and kicking her back with all my might. We've both caught each other off guard. She thought I was sound asleep. She's only on her ass for a second. She's dropped her violin case in the fall but the knife she was about to use to slit my throat is still firmly in her grasp. I have to move fast.

I leap from the bed and lunge at her right hand, the one holding the knife. She tries to thrust it into my chest; she's fast, but not fast enough. I grasp her right arm with both my hands and squeeze and twist as hard as I can, the knife is now half an inch from my bare chest. She continues to thrust with all her might, which I swear is enough to stop an eighteen wheeler, but I hold strong; straining every nerve in my arms to hold her back. I must be a facinating sight me standing there wrestling with this brunette; me standing there without a stich on me, her continuously thrusting at me in her fancy suit dress. I'm about to laugh at the whole thing when a sharp pain nearly breaks my shoulder, she's a clever girl punching me with her left while I concentrate on her right.

I raise my right hand to her armpit and barrel forward, ramming her into the wall at top speed. The impact comes with a loud crash, I've rammed her straight through the drywall! I'm halfway through a sigh, thinking she was out, when her legs spring up and kick me hard in the gut. I fly backwards into a dresser on the other side of the room like a baseball into the catcher's might. The wood of the dresser breaks and collapses under the force of the impact. I try to move but my body deffies me. I'm worried that I'm paralyzed, then I feel the pain; every muscle in my body curses me and brunette.

I moan with pain and look up into the cold, souless, shadowy eyes of the brunette. I try to move but all I can do is twist my back. She braces my shoulder with her left and brings her knife back, preparing to thrust the final blow. "Rico" I whisper inside my mind. The air is silent; I'm holding my breath, so is the brunette. Time slows down, I see the blade beginning it's trek toward my throat. It doesn't even make a sound as it cutts through the air. I shut my eyes "Rico," I manage to murmer...

"HENRIETTE DON'T!" My angel's voice shatters the silence and I feel a gust of air stoke my neck and I feel the tip of the blade just touching the skin of my neck. I open my eyes and there's my Rico, standing (stark naked) beside the brunette grasping the girl's shoulder. The brunette has turned her head to Rico. My angel looks into her eyes with desperate pleading, she might even tear up again. The brunette stares at her in silence, the only noise is Rico panting; I join her once my lungs realise how long I've been holding my breath. The brunette looks down to me for a moment and then back to her. "Please," Rico begs.

The brunette's mouth curves into a small smirk as she nodds and pulls the knife away from my neck. Rico's eye's brighten and she throws her arms around the brunette screaming "Thank you, Henriette!" The brunette stiffens with surprise for a moment then her smirk broadens to a smile and she returns the embrace. I sigh deeply. Christ that was crazy!

JOSE

"I'm telling you, you shouldn't be here Jean!" Jose insists to his older brother in the car seat to his left. Jean doesn't even turn his head to his younger brother and answers with silence. The white bandage mask over the right side of his face rejects his brother's insistance. "You are in no condition to be here!" Jose tries to reason with him, as if he thinks for an instant that was possible.

"I'll be fine," Jean growls, his voice croaked and raspy. "I need to get Rico back," he says with desperate urgency.

"We'll get her back," Jose says reassuringly. "Henriette is there, she'll detain the man and get Rico out of there. Then we can get back to the hunt."

"She'll KILL the man," Jean croaks in correction. "And the HUNT is where we are going."

Jose pauses in confusion. "I ordered Henriette to CAPTURE the man, not KILL him!" he says in dissmay.

"I instructed Hillshire to alter her instructions half an hour ago," explains Jean. "She will find the man and kill him. Then when we arrive in Old Town, we will burn it to the ground."

"What?" Jose shrieks. "Have you lost your mind? How will we clear this with the Senator?"

"I already have," Jean replies. "It's obvious that the women of old town have made an alliance with whoever is hidding PRIORITY TARGET #1. Why else would they harbor the man?" he asks rehtorically.

"The man is probably one of their clients. Besides I have done some digging on this man THE KID and I have a theory on who he is," Jose begins to explain.

"I'LL TELL YOU WHO HE IS!" Jean roars with furry and violently turns his head toward his little brother. Jose lurches backwards in surprise. His brother's eyes are burning with a murderous passion the likes of which he has never seen before. Until this day Jean had always maintained a cold calculated composure, even in all the vile, treacherous and often murderous things he had done (rather he had made Rico to do). Now his eyes were ablaze with psycotic hatred and bloodlust; as if it had lain asleep within him for years and now finally has forced it's way out. "He is a member Padania! Why do you think he was listening to our conversation at the bar, they must still remember to beware of girls? Why do you think he took Rico? He plans either to interogate her or use her as leverage against us! And those Whores in Old Town are part of the whole scheme! We will go there and we will scorch earth until we everyone of them is dead; and among the dead will be HIM!"

Jose takes a deep breath and stares his brother in the eyes with a stone face. "Brother, " he says with determind rage. "What if you are wrong?" he asks.

Jean turns his head, the white bandages of his right face sweeps across Jose's view like the slamming of a door. "Then we keep looking," Jean softly growls. "If we have to burn the entire city to the ground," he finishes.

Jose turns to the window to his right, hopelessly staring out into the snow covered countryside as Hillshire speeds the van down the freshly plowed road. There's another snow storm coming and it's heading in the same direction they are, it should arrive at about the same time as them. Jose couldn't wait to get there, he wanted to get it over with. He hated Padania as much as his brother did, not just for killing his sister and his soon to be sister in-law; but for turning his brother, the man he had known and loved all his life, into the monster who sat beside him now. Maybe Jean was right, maybe THE KID was a Padania agent, maybe the Whores were harboring the man who forged Padania; the man the SWA had been chasing for years. But if Jean was wrong and he was right... God forgive them the wrong they'd done to that poor boy, and to all the helpless and innocent people Jean and the SWA had trampled over in pursuit of Padania.

THE KID

"So this is your Emilio!" Henriette says in surprise. Rico has just finished explaining everything to the brunette. Henriette was a pretty name, it suited her well. I feel awkwardly relaxed as I sit beside Rico on the bed, her friend Henriette standing in front of us. The girl's eyes seem a much clearer brown now, instead of the shadowy dark chocolate sink holes I was staring into just minutes ago. These two have clearly known each other at least since what happened at the hotel back in Italy. "But how did you survive the gunshot, and make it here to America?" she asks.

"Long story," I reply and shift to pull a cigar from my jacket pocket. I'm still aching all over from that fight, the dresser too. Having cloths on again helps to restore some of my pride. Rico has gotten dressed herself, but not before helping me into mine. She had looked so concerned helping me to my feet, getting me over to the bed and helping me into my drawers. I had kissed her on the cheek for it and she had kissed me right back. We both wanted to do so much more... but not for an audiance, besides Henriette had seemed confused enough as it were. She hadn't even stopped glancing at me with suspicion until Rico told her who I was. "Too long for one night anyway," I say before placing the cigar in my mouth and lighting it. Once the stoggie is well lit I give it a good long puff. I pause to take in the aroma of the tobacco.

"Well he's definately as cute as you said he was," Henriette says to Rico. "But not to talkative, and a little blunt if you ask me," she remarks. Dames... They just can't wait to pass judgement on each other's men, each of them hoping to gain the other girl's approval of their escort. No matter where you are or when you are it's the same story, even in Sin City. Refreshing, lets you know this town isn't that seperate from the rest of the world...depressing too.

"Well you did come close to killing him Henriette," Rico replies and lowers her head as if in defeat. I grab her hand, I'm still facing Henriette but I can feel her look at me and smile. God I love her.

"I'm sorry Rico," says Henriette. "But I have my orders, the others will be here soon and-"

"OTHERS?" I interrupt abrumptly and spring to my feet. Henriette instinctively braces herself for a blow but relaxes when it doesn't come. "The men from last night, and that girl?" I ask.

Henriette nods. "And more. We had Angelica on stand by and Filipo and Beautrice flew in this evening. We are launching a full scale assault on this neighborhood," she explains. Damn it, this is worse then I thought. She isn't just here on a random search like I thought (or hoped). She came here to find Rico, "liberate" her and serve as a scouting party for an invasion; like the airborne were to Normandy.

"But why? What do you people want with Old Town and the girls here?" I ask.

"They believe you and the Whores here to be in league with Padania," Henriette explains with the cold composure of an androide. Padania! Perfect! That's all I need. I remember hearing about them as a child, they were just starting to do their worst when I met Rico. I had heard little bits about them over the years; the Italian governemnt had taken out the worst of them, but there were many higher ups and hardcores of the faction who had escaped into hidding.

"So you ARE Italian governemnt!" I proclaim outloud. "Well that figures, but the girls of Old Town have nothing to do with that. I sure as hell haven't heard anything about Padania being here!" And I would have heard it too. "I took Rico because I love her, and she deserves better than that blonde bastard! She deserves a better life!" I almost shout. "So do you! And all the others! Can't you see your being used! To those men your nothing more than KILLING MACHINES, to further their own agenda's!" I let her have it, all my guns blazing. Then Henriette looks at me, and those eyes...they've gone shadowy again, even though the room is lit brightened by the dim lamp on the nightstand. Those eyes I stared into with a knife to my throat are back. I stand my ground but can feel a chill run through me. I shut up.

"None of that matters to us," Henriette replies with robotically subpressed anger. "We are cyborgs, we do as our handlers tell us; we owe them our lives. Whether they treat us well or not, we love them and will do anything for them and to protect them," the brunette explains.

Those words drill holes in me, some of them come dangerously close to my heart. I turn to Rico, she's sitting on the bed with her face down. I kneel at her feet and look into her eyes. "Rico, that isn't true is it?" I ask her. Her eyes avoid mine. "You love me Rico, you said you did!" I demand an answer as I gently but frimly clasp her face in my hands and give her eyes no where to run. She stares lost and confused into my eyes. "I love you, Rico," I tell her.

"I love you too, Emilio," she replies after a long painful silence. "But Jean-" she's cutt off by the crackle of automatic gunfire.

"No!" I scream and run to the window. Snow is starting to bear heavily down from the sky but through the faint blurr of the flurries I see flashes of gunfire throughout the town even a few small explosions. It's started. "They're here!" I grasp the automatic in my coat pocket; Henriette doesn't know it's there, I hope not anyway. I turn to the girls, "We need to get down to the street," I begin but stop short as I look down the barrel of a submachine gun.

"Yes, after you Emilio," Henriette grins from behind the gun. "Follow me Rico, we're going.


End file.
